


Greg the Garlic Farmer in MMO Land

by Katmagellen



Category: EPIC NPC MAN
Genre: Gen, MMORPGs, VLDL, fantasy game, you -tube series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 03:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14440629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katmagellen/pseuds/Katmagellen
Summary: Fan-fic based on You-tube series "Epic NPC Man"by the comedy group VLDL which are short comedy sketches about a self aware NPC in a fantasy (WoW/Skyrim type) game.This story "develops "the characters in a not very funny way with mild shipping.Greg is trapped as an NPC man in a fantasy game which is shutting down and he and his band of motley adventurers have to finish an epic quest and shut the game down in order to get out.





	1. THE QUEST FOR THE GOLDEN ROD BEGINS

# Greg the Garlic Farmer and his adventures in MMO land.

( _AN "EPIC NPC MAN"FANFIC_ )

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

THE QUEST FOR THE GOLDEN ROD BEGINS

 

 

 

Greg the Garlic Farmer was in Hell.

Again.

He was standing in a line with all the others, bluish and naked and dripping with slime. All naked versions of the Non Player Characters, destined to materialise fully clothed with lines of forced dialogue inside the world of Skycraft. The atmosphere was damp, with the little wisps of vapour arising from the vats obscuring his line of sight. It was dark all around.

He knew from experience that there wasn’t much there, only the line of NPCs and their vat and then some other vats with lines of other NPCs. He wondered if Hell had more than one room. He wondered why he wondered. He wondered if any of the others wondered.

“Server shutdown eh,” he asked the NPC next to him. That must be it. He didn’t remember a violent death. No players had shoved a sword through him for laughs or built a fire where he stood patiently with his little yellow quest mark. It must be when the game was taken off line for maintenance. It happened once a week and, while not actually painful, he had come to dread the blackness of the oblivion that overtook him each time. Waking up beneath the surface of the slime and sitting up in the vat with a gasp before climbing out was pretty horrific as well.

“Yeh, “said the other NPC gloomily. “Rumour is it’s the last one.”

“Rumour?”

“Yeh. Some of these guys are Auction House and banking NPCs in Gerdorm. There are rumours the whole game might go offline. They can’t hear the chat rooms but some of the players use those little bubbles, you know?” Greg did know.

“Pity” added the other NPC. I had a sweet spot selling balloons off a little trolley near the temple. Ah, well.”

“Wha..why..” Greg began but was interrupted by the familiar heaving sensation followed by a popping noise. The reset time was over, the game was live and it was time for him to get back to work.

He was standing outside the door of his little sod hut in the village of Honeywood. From his bare feet through to his tattered trousers and vest up to the yellow quest mark above his head, everything seemed normal. He straightened his shirt with relief and raised one hand, finger pointing skyward as someone approached. It was time for his standard quest script.

“Halloo Adventurer” he said chirpily. “Welcome to the village of..”

“What the hell is happening?” snarled the player .He was a tall handsome man with curly hair and long narrow face .The twin daggers he carried marked him as a rogue. His armour was finely crafted leather and the marker above his head indicated level 110. Greg hated high-level players, especially those from the opposing faction. They had a habit of riding through the village killing all the NPCs and burning the buildings, trying to taunt out their enemies to a battle. They were basically dicks.

“Let them wake up in a steaming vat of goo one day,” he thought rebelliously ”see if they like it”

"Adventurer," he began again.

“Stick it up your arse” the man cut him off. “Unless you can tell me what’s going on.”

Sod it thought Greg. He knew that most of the NPCs in this game had some self-awareness. They traded snippets of gossip at the vats during shutdowns, after all. But as far as he knew he was the only one who puzzled over his life and the game and the lives of the players He also wondered about the vats. He kept telling himself that he’d think about that one later. In the meantime he worked to look as cheerful and as nonthreatening as possible. He didn’t want to be reported as a bug. Or a glitch. Or any of those other unwanted in game problems that the developers spent the server shutdown times ironing out. But sod this guy. Maybe it was time to stand up and be counted.

“Well, that was needlessly aggressive, “he said “help me out, man. What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? What’s the PROBLEM?” the player repeated with a rising disbelieving inflection.” Look around you useless idiot. Notice anything?”

Greg looked around. The village of Honeywood looked much the same as it always did. There was Baelin the fishing trainer, condemned to endlessly throw an empty line off a rickety bridge. And there on the other side of the road the NPC blacksmith, Bodger, walked between his forge and his anvil, both placed with minimum adherence to best OH and S practice under a thatched awning.

“Not sure what you mean there, mate.” The he noticed that the water into which Baelin was throwing his line was grey and hatched like a piece of coarse cloth.

“That’s odd,” said Greg.

“Odd, you want ODD. I’m not even talking about the fact that I’m talking about it with YOU. Come here”

“Uh, not sure if I can do that. This is where I’m stationed. See…Oh..” Greg found his feet crossing the invisible but previously unpassable line that bound him to the square metre in front of his hut.

He was delighted .He dipped his toe across the line and brought it back again quickly. He inspected it .His foot was still there. Emboldened, he jumped over the line and back again. He laughed aloud.

His life had just changed. The life that had been the same over and over and over. Into the hut as night fell on Skycraft, out of it as the new day dawned, ready to stand in position. Silly red elf hat for midwinter, basket of eggs with a blue quest marker for spring, candy barrel for Halloween, etc. etc. New players stumbled down the road from the spawning zone, eager for his quests. High-level players stopped in front of his hut to duel. It wasn’t a bad life. And death. And life. And restart. And life. He had a hazy memory of a time when it had been even more restful, before the thoughts and the doubts had crept in.

“Have you quite finished mucking around? We have a problem here.”

The player, Ben110, pointed towards Gerdorm. Gerdorm was the huge central city of the game of Skycraft. The city loomed large on the horizon. “Look!” He said it with his arm shaking. “Look at that!”

The walls of the city were fading. Some parts were merely transparent, others showed as uniform grey patches.

“Maybe the rumours were true, “said Greg softly.

“Rumours?”

“About a permanent shutdown. They say that the game is over and that there won’t be any more new content or even maintenance of the old content. Didn’t you know?” Greg turned to look at the player whose face was twisted with genuine anguish.

“Noooo. I don’t read the forum notes, trade chat is off and most of my friend’s list blocked me years ago.”

“Wow, there’s a surprise,” thought Greg but he pasted an expression of friendly concern on his face.

Ben suddenly stopped moving mid gesture and stayed in place, swaying slightly. Greg waited patiently.

After about ten minutes Ben came back.

“Goddammit, ”he swore. “The Devs have stopped any repair or patch work. They’re letting the servers run down. Stupid lawsuit about copyrighted concepts or something ”

“Oh, dear”

“Oh dear? Oh DEAR? Is that all you can say? This is the end of EVERYTHING. What the hell would you know about it or what it means to me?”

“Well, let’s see “said Greg carefully. “It means that the game will run down, you and all your mates will go off and play something else or even find something in the real world to amuse you and I and my fellow NPCs will be dispersed into an endless black void. I think that about sums it up?”

Ben dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand.” Never mind that,” he said impatiently. You don’t understand. This is my life .Not the crappy caravan I live in in my dad’s backyard. Not the crappy jobs in crappy stores making nice to crappy customers. Not even the crappy girlfriend I don’t even have. It’s THIS. I’ve spent seven years playing this game and getting to end game content before each expansion pack. This expansion ends with an epic item quest and I’m going to get that damn item. I’m going to finish the legendary quest line before the whole game goes to hell.’

He looked at Greg with sudden interest. “And you, the NPC who can talk and move around and answer back like a smartarse-you’re going to help me.”

Greg was startled. He looked around cautiously as though Ben might be talking to another, more competent NPC who had appeared from nowhere.

“Me? I’m just a starter zone level 30 NPC. All I do is hand out low-level quests. Trust me, I ‘d be useless ”

“I don’t care. It’s not like I have any friends who’d be willing to help me out. You’ll have to do. I’ll hack into the damn game if I have to, to keep it going”

“You can do that?” Now Greg was interested. Anything that staved off the blackness was worth a shot in his books .He dreaded it more each time now.

“Damn right I can. Been banned three times on two different accounts. I don’t not have a life for nothing. So let’s roll”

“Uhm, where or what exactly?”

“The legendary quest you moron .I came here to find the quest giver. His name’s Baelin.”

“Uhm “said Greg again.

Ben stared at him for a moment and said through set teeth “Baelin. The quest giver’s name is Baelin. That’s why I’m in this poxy little town talking to the sort of poxy level 30 who gives quests to kill rats and pick flowers. Tell me where this Baelin is .It should be within your abilities, it’s the sort of thing every noob who trips over themselves walking into this town asks you.”

Greg pointed to Baelin. The fishing trainer was standing on the bridge that led to honey wood. It was an arched wooden bridge with red painted handrails and Baelin stood at its apex dangling his line over the side. His body was heavyset with thick thighs and forearms .He wore a brown peasant's smock and a large fishing hat which half covered his bearded face. He was smiling. He was always smiling.

Ben stared again.

“You are kidding me. That’s a low level fishing trainer. He doesn’t have any quest marker, let alone a legendary one.”

“What does a legendary quest marker look like?” asked Greg with interest.

“Like a normal one only a bit darker, thicker and longer.”

“That sounds rather inappropriate ”

“Hang on.” Ben. “AFK”

Greg waited until Ben was back and Ben was raging.

“Can you believe that? Some one’s deleted the Wiki. Copyright. How am I supposed to do the bloody quest line now?”

“You could always do it by following the clues and doing the quests like they designed it,” said Greg meanly. “Some people do.”

“I’m not some roleplaying twat,” said Ben. “If I’d wanted to ponce around pretending to be Lord La-di-da and reading all the rubbish stories that you lot spout when you’re giving quests and rewards, I’d only be halfway through the damn game. I got out of the starting zones as fast as possible and levelled up with PVP and dungeons. The way real players do. Damn.”

He strode over to the bridge .The fishing trainer was standing on the bridge in ragged pants and vest with his straw hat shading his face, chewing on a stalk of grass. He turned his head as they approached and smiled idiotically.

“Mornin’, nice day for fishing ain’t it?” He threw his twine line over the side of the bridge.

Greg closed his eyes and shuddered slightly. He knew that Baelin, if someone continued to poke him, would cycle through “Mornin’, nice day for fishin’, ain’t it” via a series of bucolic laughs and belches to eventually hitting the player with his fishing rod and uttering “You leave them fishes to me, Boi.” All said in a fake Devonshire accent. Greg had heard it hundreds if not thousands of times. "You could try his inventory, maybe there’s something in it”

“Good idea. SHOP.” Unfortunately Ben was facing Greg who was then forced to display his cheese and milk and garlic for sale and was then shoved impatiently out of the way.

“SHOP. IDIOT.” This time Ben was facing Baelin so Baelin opened his trade window. Greg knew that a big tray divided into squares could be seen by the player and he would choose goods by pointing to them.

Ben looked then spat “Fishing rods, lures and recipes for cooking the sort of poxy fish you get in this lake which is now all pixels anyway.”

They both looked over the edge of the bridge. The patchwork had spread and Greg thought he could see where part of the bridge itself had vanished.

They heard footsteps coming across the bridge from the other side, where the road led out from the starting zone. They turned around. Another player was crossing the bridge. She looked vaguely familiar to Greg, but she definitely wasn’t an NPC.

“Oh thank goodness. Other people.” The voice was low and musical and belonged to the player now standing next to Baelin .The fishing trainer’s usual expression of stunned idiocy suddenly seemed appropriate. The warrior maiden wore a silver coronet over her blond hair and the chainmail micro bikini set, which Greg recognised with approval as the Armour of Argon, upgraded to level 110 (requiring exalted with the House of Argon 3000/3000). She carried a sword across her back. Her nameplate said “Britt”.

“I heard that the Devs have just left the game to degrade.” she said. “It’s a pity .I love this game, especially all the early content. It was so much fun learning all about becoming a warrior and fighting and doing quests. I’m going back to all the old zones to say goodbye one last time before it crashes for good.” A perfect tear came out of a deep blue eye and coursed down a perfect cheek. Greg’s heart lurched and Ben made a derisive noise.

“God I hate emotes. Nose wrinkle; raise eyebrows, cry, vomit, and all that stuff. What a waste of time. You’re squandering game time and your own brainpower making yourself act like a real human .Who wants to? Who cares?”

She sniffed her tear back and looked irritably at Ben and then curiously at Greg.

“Aren’t you the vendor guy who stands outside the cottage in Honey wood?” she asked. He nodded dumbly.

“What happened?”

Greg opened his mouth but Ben interrupted.

“He’s supposed to be helping me. I want to finish the legendary quest before the game crashes.”

“Oh the one where you get the legendary fishing rod of Baladoon? Ye, my boyfriend started that quest. Ex- boyfriend “she added bitterly.

“Ex?” Asked Greg hopefully.

“Yeh. Would you believe it? I met him in game when I was a real noobie. I levelled up because he wanted someone to play with, did the daily grind for months, put all my gold in his guild bank, then he runs off with some cow of a mage who can do 100k dps. And now he’s raiding HER dungeon every night”

“Has he come back to say goodbye too?” asked Greg trying to make conversation. It wasn’t something he’d had a lot of practice at in the last five years. His material came ready packaged.

She shook her head. “Oh. No, he hasn’t played for months.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Well, I guess that means you’re not a dude at least” said Ben eventually “ so back to the subject at hand. Do you know how to start the quest chain for the legendary item?”

Britt waved at Baelin. “You have to buy a special lure from him to fish up golden minnow. You give five of those to him then he gives you the starter quest.”

“At last someone who knows something. You’re not just useful for making the sandwiches eh? Stick around chickybabe. I may have more work for you.”

Britt rolled her eyes and winked at Greg.

“Let’s watch” She undulated across the bridge and sat down, her feet dangling in the water. Greg scrambled after her.

They sat side by side on the grassy bank by the pond watching Ben inexpertly cast a line with the rod he had bought from Baelin. Greg became aware of the warmth of the sun and the sound of crickets and even the faint smell of pondscum. He wrinkled his nose then looked puzzled and opened his mouth.

“ I know what you’re going to say,” said Britt. “I can smell it too. I can feel the sun on my head and the wind in my face. It’s weird, now the game is disintegrating; I’m feeling real things better. And, you know, it feels ok”.” She tilted her head.” I remember reading about this when I started playing. Some of what we feel is because it’s a virtual reality game so we get the 3-D effect, but it’s not a full simulator where they blow wind and smells and stuff at you and rock you around. What it is,” she was getting enthusiastic now, “Is that our brains sort of put in stuff that’s missing to make a complete picture .So because there should be smells and heat and the earth rocking when there’s an explosion we put it in the game from our own brains. Some people can do it straight away and to them it's like the real world. Some can't ever do it. Some need months of special classes and treatment that costs a bomb. It's linked to being hypnotisable apparently", Greg nodded, hoping he looked as though he understood She looked at him again. I guess one question is –are you an NPC who is feeling or am I putting feelings in you because my brain is telling me that’s what I need to do to make the whole thing more realistic?” She smiled. “It might be fun to find out.”

Greg blinked at her. He wondered how to answer that. The game had become more real for the two players on that bridge, but what about all the others? What about him? If it was her brain making the connections, why was he the one feeling things?

His stomach rumbled, startling him. He didn’t even know he had a stomach. Or any other organs for that matter. Blood, of course. He needed that to gush out when he was stabbed but the other bodily functions were off limits. Now he was hungry. And he thought he might have a full bladder. And other things he couldn’t quite put his finger on were stirring.

He licked his lips nervously and tried to think of something distracting to say.

“I think that I need to eat something,” he said.

Britt smiled. “Well, that’s something I can help you with. SHOP.” She selected some bread and cheese and a bottle of beer from his inventory and then produced a picnic basket from her own bag. The basket had two little hinged lids on either side of the handle, decorated in gingham. The bag at her waist was the size of a large purse but Greg knew that she could produce everything from potions to mounts from it.

“I remember that basket “Greg said dreamily. “It’s from the spring festival rewards vendor. He always stood next to me .We had some great chats. He was always a bit sad that he only came out once a year for a week. But we liked seeing the players buy the baskets and have picnics by the pond.”

"I love the holiday events," she said enthusiastically. "There are always special quests and rewards." She blushed. "Like pets. I remember when I registered and they asked what it would take to make me finish the game and I said all the holidays and a Golden elite pet. They probably thought it was silly but it's better than a stupid fishing rod"

They toasted each other and watched Ben who had a collection of old bottles, sticks and scraps of rag at his feet and was currently unhooking a severed arm from his fishing line with a very disgruntled look. He saw them watching and yelled.

“How long does this bloody TAKE?”

“Depends on your fishing skill “called back Britt. “My boyfriend’s was 700/700 so, like, five minutes.”

“Well, mine’s zero.” Ben checked something “No, it’s 25 now. This is going to take FOREVER”

Britt stood up in a fluid movement that took Greg’s breath away. He didn't remember the player's toons being quite that realistic. Or maybe the augmented reality devices they wore actually did make them see each other like that and he was now getting the full effect.

“You know, I think I have some of those fish in my bags. He might just take them without you needing to fish them up. Let me look. Oh, yup. Open trade.”

“You could have told me that before,” said Ben after the trade was complete. “What a waste of time”

“And you could have not called me chickybabe” muttered Britt and winked at Greg again.

Ben traded the fish to Baelin and suddenly punched the air. “YES. YES the quest marker is there.”

A minute later he turned to Greg. “Close up the hovel, mate, we’re going to Darkwood. And make sure this joker comes.” He jerked his head at Baelin. “We may need him in the future and his bridge is being white anted at a rate of knots”

 

 


	2. DARKWOOD

DARKWOOD  
Baelin took some coaxing and pushing before he would leave the bridge and even then his method of progress was to take ten paces with his rod on his back, stop short and exclaim “Nice day for fishing, ain’t it? Hu-yuk!” before moving on again.  
Ben strode ahead, stopping to hurl abuse at the others for not keeping up. He also had begun to recognise the heightened sensory input from the game but not in a good way .He just added “WHY am I hot? WHY am I sweating? WHY is my bum ITCHING so much? “ to the general litany of his complaints.  
Meanwhile Greg and Britt strolled slowly along, savouring the sun on their faces and the breeze in their hair. Every sensation was either new or more intense than it had ever been. Even the feel of his bare feet against the crushed seashells of the path to Darkwood was new and exciting, he thought.  
After ten kilometres the sensation was of walking on broken glass and was more cripplingly painful than exciting but Greg soldiered on. He was relieved when a shadow fell across the land and the sound of birds and insects stilled.  
One of his stock speeches as an NPC sending people onto the nearby quest areas was “I must warn you, adventurer, against seeking the path that lies yonder for it leads to the town of Darkwood, veiled in shadow and prey to evils beyond your tender imagination”,  
Now he realised that he was ignoring his own advice.  
“Have you been to Darkwood?” he asked Britt.  
“Oh, yes, it’s a bit of a giggle. You’ll see why.”  
They continued around the Bend and through a broken wicket gate, which creaked as they crossed over it. There was a muffled curse and a splash ahead.  
“The bridge is broken “whispered Britt.  
“Like the one in Honeywood? “Greg whispered back.  
“No, it’s supposed to be broken. Adds to the creepiness. There’s stepping stones though but you have to be careful not to fall of off of them.”  
There was another splash and some colourful language.  
The pondscum in this village was a lot more scum and a lot less pond. It smelt deeply unpleasant although Greg’s lack of experience meant he couldn’t come up with any decent metaphors.  
They bumped into Ben. ”Smells like a dead pig,” said the gamer, supplying a simile at least. He was covered in wet slime and looked unhappier than ever He gestured to a weak light coming from the road ahead.  
On the road there was a hovel exactly like the one in Honeywood but slightly more decrepit, with two smoking torches casting small pools of light in the grey mist.  
An NPC who looked exactly like Greg stood in front of the hut rubbing his hands together obsequiously and emitting high-pitched cackles.  
“Good evening to you Adventurer,” the Greg crooned,” and welcome to the town of Darkwood. Stay and help me if you dare.” He cackled again  
“Look," Britt giggled “it’s creepy you. Greg the Weasel”.  
Greg looked critically at his twin. He didn’t own a mirror but his "type" was a pretty common mould for NPCs so he had seen himself around the place, if that was the correct way to phrase it.  
The thatch of thinning brown hair above a wide brow, the brown eyes set well apart, the undistinguished mouth and chin, the long neck above a slight, stooping body. It was all there, exaggerated by the cringing pose of the Darkwood NPC. Greg felt faintly offended .He had always thought the Greg NPCs to be pleasant, innocent looking chaps. They were all ready, like him, to help the travelling players on their way through the world of Skycraft. This one made him look like a shyster selling fake potions.  
There was a silence as they stood around him, broken by Baelin.  
“Mornin’. Nice day for fishin’, ain’t it?’  
“Shut up dickface.” Ben again. "This is the right NPC”  
Greg became aware of a giant orange question mark that hung translucently above the other Greg’s head. He could see the epic quest line now he thought excitedly. Maybe because he was part of Ben’s party? Or perhaps he was becoming more like a player and less like an NPC? Part of him hoped that that was true.  
Ben poked at the NPC .The question mark disappeared.  
“Ah Yes,” the NPC whined. “The search for the Legendary Rod of Baladoon is long and arduous. I can help you but first you must help me.” He took a breath.  
“This village was not always….”“SKIP”  
“An evil curse when.”  
“SKIP”  
“We are infested with…”  
“SKIP”  
“Slay ten of…”  
“ACCEPT”  
“I always hated when people did that, “muttered Greg.  
“Is it the spiders again?” asked Britt. “It’s spiders at level twenty.”  
“Hang on.” Ben checked.  
“Yeh spiders but only the orange ones.”  
“How can we tell if they’re orange?” asked Greg. “It’s so dark here.”  
“Like this,” said Britt. She leaned forward and took the torch from the brazier next to the NPC. Another torch spawned immediately but the one in Britt’s hand didn’t go out.  
“Great.”  
Ben seized the other torch then screamed at the black blotches, which on closer inspection were spiders, pouring out of the thatch above and onto his hand. He shook his hand wildly and the torch went out. He jumped about screaming for a few more minutes then brushed himself down and tried to look dignified.  
Greg picked up the re spawned torch from its brazier and handed it to Ben who took it in lofty silence.  
“The spiders are this way,” Ben said sullenly and started up the side path behind the hut.  
Halfway up the path they were attacked by a mob of spiders coming in a steady stream down the track. Most were the size of large rats and were black but about one in four were the size of a football and had large orange stripes across their backs. Britt thrust her torch at Greg and started laying about with her two handed sword. Ben was stabbing at them with one of his daggers and waving the torch to scatter them. Baelin stood smiling vacantly and Greg was frozen in fear.  
“Use the torch, Greg!” yelled Britt and he swung it blindly. A smell of burning -spider he supposed- assaulted his nostrils and he held his breath and swung again. Green goo was exploding from the spiders that were being cleaved in two by Britt’s sword There was a clattering and a chittering and then eventually silence.  
Ben was counting.  
“One, two, three…. ah, bugger, there’s only nine .We need another.”  
“Mornin’. Nice day for fishin”, ain’t it?”  
The voice came from up ahead, where the path ended in a cave.  
“Who…who’s he talking to?” asked Greg.  
Ben and Britt looked at each other.  
“Ah, crap,” said Ben. “The brood mother must have spawned.”  
There was a small cave set in a rock face at the top of the path  
The cave was almost entirely occupied by a giant black and orange spider, which was rearing up, its fang dripping green venom as it prepared to skewer Baelin.  
Britt whirled up the path, pushing Baelin aside and, in a blur of motion stabbed her great sword up into the creature’s exposed belly. Instead of exploding it gave a great wheeze and collapsed like a balloon.  
Ben pounced.“Aha. There you are, you little bugger. Here comes spider corpse number ten”  
Pressed against the wall at the back of the cave were two small spiderlings. One had orange stripes; the other was fatter and furrier and had a glowing yellow stripe across its back. Ben disposed of the orange one with a swipe of his dagger and turned to the other. It cowered against the wall and gave a whimper.  
“No! “Britt shoved him over and picked the creature up. She cooed at it and it purred back. A flash of green passed between them. “I love collecting pets,” she said.  
Greg was wrestling with his thoughts again as the spiderling snuggled against Britt.  
Didn’t you, ummm, just kill its mother?” he asked nervously. “And it likes you?”  
“Yeh,” said Ben absently. “That’s how you get pets .You either kill their friends or their family until they’re the only one left.”  
“That’s rather..”  
“”Stupid, Yeh,” Ben said. “Pets are such a chick thing.”  
Britt glared but all she said was “I’m glad some bits of the game still work.”  
Greg yawned and made himself jump.  
“What was that? Why did I do that?”  
“You’re tired.” Britt told him. “We all are .We need to rest. And wash too. How about the NPC’s hut?”  
“The one covered in spiders d’you mean?” asked Ben “O yay.” He added gloomily “I suppose I have to turn in the quest to Igor-Greg anyway, so we may as well got there to sleep”  
Igor- Greg greeted them with more cackling and an attempt to thank them at length, which made even Britt yell “skip”  
Inside the hut there was very little room. It was one dirt-floored room with a jug in one corner and a blanket in the other. It smelt, as Ben remarked, of unwashed feet. Unpleasant rustling sounds came from the eaves.  
Britt lay down and gestured for Greg to lie with her .He felt awkward.  
“What do I do?" he asked, “I’ve never done this before”  
“Oho” said Ben “I didn’t realise that this was one of THOSE servers.”  
“Sleep,” said Britt patiently, “He’s never slept before."  
“Oh, Ah, “said Ben, clearly disappointed “How hard is it? He demonstrated by lying back and almost immediately snoring. He’d taken the blanket. Britt gestured again.  
Greg lay down obediently and blackness overtook him, but not for long.  
He woke up in a sweat and poked Britt.  
“Britt, I’m seeing things. Behind my eyes. That are happening but not happening. Like fighting spiders and me running. Is it one of those games within the game like Magic Card Challenge?”  
“Greg,” she said sleepily. “It’s a dream. It’s ok .Go back to sleep.”  
“Why is this happening?” he asked, panicking. “Am I becoming more like you? Is this word dissolving or becoming real? Why am I thinking about all of this stuff? He was waving his arms around by the end of this speech.  
“I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know and I also don’t know “she said and patted him.  
“I’m wondering things, too” she said. “Like am I becoming part of the game? Am I trapped here?”  
“O No “said Greg “You must be really frightened by that.” He patted her in turn .He hoped that she found it as nice as he had.  
“No,” she answered him simply “I can’t think of anything better than to be trapped here as long as we don’t disintegrate when the game finally goes down. I’ve heard that some people have managed to do that – to get themselves written into the game as NPCs and all they have to do is come out a few times a day to shower and stuff. You need money to do that though. And you have to have the sort of brain that can immerse itself totally. Not sure if I have that. And even if you do you have to pay squillions to be prepped for it and I don't have that either. No. What I worry about is becoming just ME.”  
“What do you mean? You mean like you outside?” She nodded.” So were you …ugly?” He felt bad even saying that .He didn’t know why but he felt like he shouldn’t care if she was ugly even though the very sight of her made him melt into a puddle, which must mean, he thought in a muddled way, that it DID matter because that’s how she was here and he liked it. It was so complicated. He didn’t think he would ever get it right.  
Greg saw Britt staring at him and had a moment of horror. “Did I just say all that?”  
“Say what? You’re sitting up making faces and looking as gormless as Baelin.”  
“Baelin!”  
They looked at each other. They had forgotten Baelin.  
From outside the hut in response to his name came the familiar cry of “Nice day for fishing…ain’t it?” But the final two words sounded uncertain.”  
Britt rolled her eyes and went outside. She reappeared gently pushing Baelin and guided him into the corner. Baelin sat there, his eyes wide open and his fishing rod across his back. He looked bewildered and Greg felt a sudden urge to comfort him.  
“Poor Baelin,” said Britt. “I think it’s starting to happen to him too.”  
“What did you mean?” Greg asked “You are becoming more you – if you didn’t mean changing your looks “he added hastily.  
“I mean, “She stopped and bit her bottom lip adorably. “I mean in here I’m a warrior. I’m incredibly strong and brave and I can hit mobs that are up to level 110 with my sword and kill them without taking too much damage. Believe me, I can’t do that in real life. In real life I’m a therapist.”  
“What’s a therapist?”  
“I..take care..of sick people”  
“Well you’re still taking care” Greg said confidently. You’re taking care of me’  
“That’s just it, “ said Britt. “ Out there I help people by strengthening their coping skills and it doesn’t always work. And if it does they don’t think it’s me –they think it’s them –which it is I guess. Half of them sneer at what I do and call it psychobabble because they don’t see what a wonderful instrument the brain can be. I mean, just think. All those old science fiction novels about augmented reality -they were full of tubes and visors and electrical wires going in and out of bits of your body. Then they invented a simple interface where you just relax, stare at a screen and your brain does the rest. No one appreciates the wonder of it. They go off and spend a fortune on healing magnets and herbal teas that only work because the brain tells them they do. It can be really frustrating. Here I can help people do their quests by protecting them and killing stuff – it ‘s simple and I can see when it works. And I can experience the wonder of my brain making me feel and smell and taste in this reality. I’m afraid of the time that it ends more than I’m afraid of what might happen if I stay.”  
She reached out with her hand and he reached out with his. By mutual accord they lay down side by side. Greg closed his eyes feeling for some reason absurdly happy.


	3. ONTO GEDORM

ON TO GERDORM  
Greg opened his eyes. Ben’s unshaven face was looming over him and his hand was shaking Greg’s shoulder.  
Britt was stretched out beside him, her head pillowed on an arm. The other arm was cuddling her orange spider. She was still deeply asleep. Baelin was still propped up in a sitting position .His eyes were open and Greg wondered if he had been like that all night.  
“Hey, Chickybabe. Time for you to get up, too. And you, fishermoron. OK, maybe not you, now that I think about it .I don’t know that I can cope with the nice day for fishin’, Yuk Yuk, thing at this hour.”  
They sat up. Ben looked like hell.  
“SHOP,” he said to Greg .He took some bread and cheese and spring water and started eating.  
“I was here all night," he said with his mouth full.  
“Yes,” said Britt patiently, “we all were.”  
“No,” Ben said, “I mean HERE. When I sat down and started zz-ing, I thought I’d log out. I didn’t. I slept here all night, if you can call it sleeping with the smoke and the rustling and that creepy dude giggling to himself outside the hut. Have you tried logging out? Or even AFK-ing? I can’t do that any more either.”  
“Don’t go behind the hut,” he added, “I went behind the hut.” Seeing their confusion he clarified. “I took a dump. That’s a first achievement unlocked eh?” He looked pleased with himself.  
“Charming.” said Britt. She looked unperturbed and took a bite of cheese, carefully avoiding the piece Ben had handled. Germs, thought Greg. She’s afraid of germs.  
Greg was not unperturbed. He was getting agitated thinking about their previous conversation. He turned to Britt.  
"It's terrible. You could be trapped her. What are you going to do?”  
“Stay here of course, silly. It’s not as if I can do anything else. We don’t know what’s going to happen. We don’t know which bits of the game are acting like the game does and which bits are acting like the outside world and which bits we’re having to fill in to make sense of it. Let’s just keep going and find out.” She smiled at him. “Together. It might be fun. An adventure, even”  
“That’s the spirit,’” approved Ben, ”let’s finish my quest at least. “He saw Greg’s face “Oh come on, mate. She’s right .If we’re stuck we’re stuck. Might as well get something out of it. And it’s not like I’ve got much of a life to get back to. You may as well finish it too .You can be our NPC companion. Haven’t seen them in this game yet. Probably have to buy them ”he added glumly. "Bloody microtransations, they're ruining everything."  
Greg got up, pondering the irony of his being the most introspective person in this group. The players seemed less worried about oblivion than him. Maybe because they’d never experienced it.  
“I wonder how Baelin will go?” he said  
Ben shrugged. “Dude looks like he’s freaking out or something to me. But what would I know? Let’s just keep him moving” He went on “About the quest. I turned it into creepy Greg .He gave me the next one. I have to get a box from the bottom of his pond. There’s a key in it apparently. Anyone fancy a dip in the slime?”  
“It’s your quest ”said Britt. “You go for it. The rest of us can watch. We probably couldn’t pick it up anyway if you’re the one with the quest. Assuming that the rules of the game are the same.”  
“Great,” said Ben. ”Well, no time like the present. He stood up and brushed himself down. His daggers were sheathed on either side of his belt, which he unbuckled and dropped on the floor. When he started taking his boots and trousers off, Britt protested.  
“Is that a good idea?”  
“I’m sorry, are we being prudish now? Afraid of the sight of my manly bits? I do have them you know-I checked.”  
“Of course you did. Your manly bits are of minimal interest to me I was thinking more- is it a good idea to be naked down in the middle of an unfamiliar pond? Are you taking your weapons at least?”  
“Good call.” He finished stripping and buckled his belt and daggers back on.  
“That’s not a good look “said Britt sincerely. Greg said nothing. He had only just discovered what was under his own trousers when he’d gotten up to answer the call of nature in the middle of the night. That had also been a new experience. He’d fallen back to sleep wondering if that was what it was supposed to look like. Apparently it was.  
“I don’t care what it looks like,” said Ben “No pond stains for me” and he strode off with a swagger, bumping creepy Greg out of the way as he went.  
“Let’s follow him,” said Greg.  
Britt hesitated and gestured towards Baelin. “Baelin” she said softly “Do you want to go fishing for a bit?”  
He turned his face towards her “Nice day for fishin’, ain’t it?” he said brokenly.  
“He’s not taking this very well, is he?” said Greg. “Come on Baelin, buck up. We’re on an adventure.” Baelin looked at him without comprehension but got to his feet and followed them obediently down to the pond. Greg felt a ridiculous surge of pleasure at the accomplishment.  
Ben broke the surface as they arrived. He’d already dived in once. It was still cloudy and overcast around Darkwood but not as misty as it had been the previous evening. They could see his head framed by the broken bridge beyond. They could hear his teeth chattering in the still morning air.  
“It’s disgusting down there,” yelled Ben “and all murky. Can’t see a thing. I can’t bring up a minimap anymore that shows me where the quest item is so I’m fishing blind”  
“Fishin'” murmured Baelin hopefully  
“Fishing!” Britt exclaimed and leaned forward. ”Ben Are you sure you’re supposed to go diving for that box. Isn’t it part of a gigantic fishing quest line? Shouldn’t you try fishing first?”  
Ben swore and heaved himself out of the water. He stood naked, dripping and green on the edge of the pond. “I’m going to be so dark if you’re right.” he said, “but I’m willing to have a go .It was cold down there”  
“Yes we can see that,” said Britt  
“I wish,” said Ben five minutes later as he unhooked another old boot from his line ‘that I had levelled my fishing before this quest.” He thought for a moment. “You know all I know about this thing is that it’s a legendary item .Why is it a damn fishing quest?”  
“It’s the legendary fishing rod of Baladoon “said Britt.  
“Yes I know that bit. But does it do anything? Or is it just a vanity item that I can show off?  
Britt became animated “Oh no, its much more .For a start it’s awesome looking – gold with jewels down the side and a special effect that makes it glow when you equip it. Then it gives you underwater breathing and 500 plus fishing expertise even if it’s just in your bags. But best of all it can be equipped as a one or two handed melee weapon or as a staff or even as a ranged weapon-. It shoots fishhooks if you use it as a ranged weapon” she explained, “and it’s a maximum level weapon –best in slot for all classes”  
“Wow “ said Greg, who had been listening open-mouthed. “That’s pretty impressive. ”Almost too impressive, he thought to himself. He’d never heard of an item that powerful in all his years in game.  
“How many people have it?” he asked  
“No –one that I know of.” replied Britt. “It’s true end game. They only introduced it during the last patch. When someone gets the rod they have won the game and there’s a real world prize like a lifetime subscription. . We would all know about it, I think. My ex gave up after the first dungeon.” Ben was wrestling with his line. “Someone help me here”  
Uncharacteristically it was Baelin who reached forward to grab the rod and who helped Ben heave on it. The line flew up out of the water and a small box attached to the hook spun through the air and landed with a smack against Greg’s head.  
“Ow.”  
It was a small box made of some black metal and inscribed with golden runes .It was also locked.  
“No problem,” said Ben “That’s one skill I do have 700/700 in. Lock picking.”  
“Mm mm.” said Britt. “Rogues do have their uses.”  
Ben produced a lock pick from his bag and began to jiggle it in the lock. It snapped.  
“Damn,” he said, “I’ve only got four of these left.” He produced another pick and began jiggling again.  
The locks clicked with the third lock pick and the box sprang open. The interior was still dry and lined with black velvet. On the velvet lay a golden key and beside the key was a note.  
Ben picked up the note.  
“Ah, crap,” he said, “I hate puzzle clues.”  
He held the note up and read it.  
“By the shadow plains  
Where the lion stands proud  
In the place gold reigns,  
When the trumpets call loud  
The wall of stone  
Reveals my home”  
“It doesn’t scan very well,” said Greg critically. “Poor metre and the rhymes aren’t quite right.”  
“Seven years in front of a hovel and now you’re a poetry critic?” jeered Ben. “It’d be more helpful if you could tell me what it means.”  
“The zone between here and Gerdorm is called the Gloaming “said Britt serenely. “Close enough to shadow. And Gerdorm has a lion carved above the drawbridge.”  
“Gold reigns “said Greg. ”I think that’s the bank.”  
“When the trumpets call. That’s the guards on the watchtower. They blow trumpets on the hour” said Ben, surprising them all, including himself, by actually working out one of the clues.  
“So, we have to be in the bank in Gerdorm when the trumpets sound?” asked Britt.  
“ Yup. So we better get moving ”said Ben. “I wonder if we’ll ever get a quest in a town that has a flight point,” he added morosely, “or if we’ll get fisher boy onto an eagle if there is one.”  
Britt was standing next to Baelin who had started at the word “fish “ and had opened his mouth. She patted his hand soothingly and he pressed closer to her. “We’re going to the city of Gerdorm, “she told him.  
“Gerdorm,” he repeated and she looked pleased.  
“That’s right. Gerdorm.”  
Greg had edged away during the conversation. He walked backwards to the village, back to where the sniggering Gregskin stood in front of his tumbledown hut.  
This NPC was, Greg reasoned to himself, the closest thing he had to a brother. Born every shutdown in the same vat with the same face .He felt impelled to find his vat brother and to warn him to …what? Fight? Run away? Or just to be aware of what was happening? Greg wasn’t sure, but he had to try.  
Creepy -Greg looked up as Greg returned along the path.  
“Ah, Adventurer, you have returned .Hee hee.”  
“Ah, no. I’m not actually an adventurer,” stammered Greg.” I’ve just come to, er, chat with you.”  
A yellow quest marker hung over the NPC now, less transparent than the one that he had sported before giving Ben his epic quest. Perhaps I AM becoming an adventurer thought Greg confusedly. The other Greg was reciting his quest.  
“Help me adventurer, for I am trapped in this hideous place until I am made whole again by a kind passer-by. Cross my hand with silver, kind sir, and ye shall see.”  
Greg shrugged to himself and thought “Why not?” He waved at creepy Greg and said. “ ACCEPT!”  
As he accepted the quest several things happened simultaneously. He heard Britt cry out “Noooo” as she grabbed his vest and pulled him away. The other NPC swelled up to twice his previous size and his head fell off. Hundreds of black bugs poured out of the severed neck and a rustling voice yelled. “FOOL!”  
“Stomp on them Greg “ordered Britt, who was enthusiastically following her own advice. Baelin was helping too, whacking the bugs with his fishing line in an excited manner. Ben was standing aloof, looking mildly disgusted.  
Numbers floated through the air, the cumulative total of the squashed bugs. When the numbers reached three figures the corpses began to fade. Creepy Greg’s corpse faded as well.  
Britt surveyed the scene. “That’s interesting. He’s not respawning  
“You KNEW he’d..He’s.. ‘’ He was.ugh.” Greg could hardly get the words out.  
“Oh ye, he does it all the time .He usually comes back pretty quickly though “Britt said  
“How many times exactly have you been here?” asked Greg.  
“You only get one character in this game “ said Britt “but I’ve introduced a lot of my friends to the game and I often help them in the first few zones. It’s fun”  
“FUN?”  
“Yeh, it’s a bit of a hoot when he does that bag of bugs thing”  
“FUN?” Greg sputtered .He had just seen himself explode in a shower of insects .His decapitated head had lain on the ground, bugs crawling out of its staring eye sockets before collapsing in a pile of ooze and disappearing. He felt queasy and somehow violated.“FUN?”  
She saw his expression. “I’m sorry, Greg but I didn’t think we were coming back or I would have told you.” She went back to what was puzzling her. “It looks like we’re not getting respawns. Maybe now once an NPC dies he’s gone for good. “She looked worried and he felt a warm glow replacing his indignation, but then she added  
“We’d better take care of Baelin. Poor sweetie, he’s totally clueless.”  
“Fine,” Greg said bitterly “Let’s get back to poor old Baelin” and he stomped off in the direction of the pond.  
Ben was looking into the distance.  
“Still can’t get the damn minimap up. It’s probably safest if we stick to the road.  
“We should follow the clue to the letter” said Britt. “If we think it means “the city by the gloaming” we should go that way.”  
Ben yawned. “Great. More spiders and creepy crawlies “He clicked his fingers and an armoured warhorse appeared, neighing expectantly.  
“Well, at least that still works “he said, “Have you got a mount, Britt?”  
“Mmmm,” Britt looked uncertain. “But what about Baelin and Greg?”  
Greg noted the order in which she said their names. Dammit, he hardly knew the woman and yet he was jealous of that idiot Baelin.  
“What about them?” said Ben hardheartedly “? They can walk. ”  
“Do you have a two or three seater?” Asked Britt. “I do “She clicked her fingers and a pony and cart appeared. “Hop on everyone” she invited.  
“NPCs can’t ride player’s mounts, ” said Ben. “Unless that’s changed. And I prefer my own horse, thanks.”  
Greg thought about how he had stepped over his boundary area, used the flaming torch and accepted a quest. Why wouldn’t it have changed? He thought and clicked his fingers at the pony. To his delight he found himself seated next to Britt on the Bench of the buggy.  
Baelin couldn’t get on. In vain Britt showed him how to stand by the buggy and click his fingers at it. “Try to imagine that you are seated up here “she said to him .He clicked obediently but nothing happened. He jumped up and down pathetically, his eyes on Britt. “Nice..nice..I can’t “he said at last  
“Well at least he said something else other than nice day for fishin’. “Said Greg.  
“Yes, he did, didn’t he?” Said Britt happily “Well DONE Baelin. You are getting there.” Baelin looked grateful. Britt clicked her fingers and the buggy disappeared, tumbling Greg unexpectedly into the dirt road.  
”We will all walk together, “said Britt decidedly. “As a team.”  
“In your dreams,” said Ben. He turned his horse so it was facing up the road and yodelled “Heigh ho Silver!” His mount reared up and came down again, pawing at the ground expectantly before it started cantering along the road “See you down the road, suckers,” he called back. Dust billowed behind his horse and covered them.  
The three started walking slowly down the winding dirt road. There were trees casting long shadows on either side. Even though it was technically daytime the sky was a watery grey, with just the occasional shaft of dirty yellow light falling on the road. Greg could see large bats swooping between the trees and somewhere in the area wolves were howling. A cold wind blew steadily. Greg shivered. “Why would Ben want to go ahead?” he said “You’d think he’d want company around here.”  
“I don’t think he wants company anywhere, “ said Britt. “He’s a rogue so if worse comes to worst he can melt into the shadows. If that still works of course” She went on “I’m more interested in why you can do more player things and Baelin can’t”  
“I thought you had decided that I’m special,” said Greg sulkily.  
“Well of course you are” she said absently and squeezed his hand “But there must be a way of making Baelin do it too. I don’t think I can stand dragging him along like a prisoner of war. I want him to want to come.”  
“I don’t know much about other NPCs apart from the ones I meet in the shutdown, “ said Greg. “There’s Baelin and there’s Bodger the blacksmith trainer and there’s the guards outside the village. They’re bigger than me. I would guess that in the cities there are guards and profession trainers and soldiers. I know the ones I see at shutdown are the auction house NPCs and the bankers and the shopkeepers in the city. That’s how I know what’s going on ‘cos they’re the places players talk to each other. Maybe you should ask him what he remembers people talking about.”  
“What about the bad NPCs?” asked Britt. “You know, the minions of the bosses. Do you talk to them as well??”  
The bad guys respawn in a separate room. Don’t ask me why. Maybe so we don’t know what’s going on with each other”  
“How many female NPCs?” asked Britt?  
“You know, I’ve never thought about it.” Greg had the grace to look embarrassed “The females tend to be called maidens or mothers or crones. Some are young, some fat and some sort of Bent over and skinny. The evil ones are either crones or maidens. Sometimes they start as a maiden and turn into a crone.”  
Britt’s lips were in a thin line. Greg knew instinctively that this wasn’t a good thing.  
“The mothers are shopkeepers and citizens mostly” he said pleadingly. “They seem happy”  
He could see it wasn’t helping.  
Baladoon is special,” he babbled desperately, “He’s much taller than the other NPCs and has a sort of echoing voice or so they tell me. I haven’t seen him. He doesn’t appear much – only giving messages in dungeons and a couple of really important quests to end game players. Some of the more important NPCs look special too –stuff like purple hair or halos or wings”  
“None of them are female, I suppose?” asked Britt coldly.  
Greg was silent. He knew a losing streak when he saw one. He certainly wasn't going to mention the harpies and the witches that he knew were in most dungeons, let alone the succubi.  
They could hear wolves howling and yelping near at hand and he and Baelin instinctively pressed closer to Britt. She looked grim and broke into a trot.  
They rounded a Bend and there was Ben, surrounded by wolves and swirling about with his double daggers. There were four wolves snapping and snarling at him and a fifth lay dead at his feet. As they watched the largest wolf leapt at him. He slashed it across the throat and it fell, blood gushing from the wound. Ben caught sight of the others coming down the road.  
“Yeah, a little help here maybe? “ he called and ducked from Beneath another snapping set of jaws.  
Britt unsheathed her weapon and jumped thirty feet down the road in a single leap, landing in the middle of the wolves with a noise like a thunder boom. The ground cracked beneath her, radiating in little red fissures out from where she had landed. Three swipes from her sword, three wolves fell twitching and the pack was no more. She stood surveying the scene with grim satisfaction and turned to Ben  
“They’re only level 40 in this area. What was your problem?”  
Ben was trying unsuccessfully to brush congealing blood off his leather jerkin .He ended up smearing it all over his suede gloves instead. His usual rakishly dishevelled clothing and hairstyle now looked genuinely disordered, the clothing covered with dirt and blood and the hair a mess of twigs and dirt.  
“Yechh” he said “Well, this is becoming a little too lifelike .He looked down to where one of the wolves lay its abdomen gaping and its intestines spilling out onto the ground. There was a terrible stench and the sound of flies buzzing.  
“Yeh,” said Ben. “Definitely more realistic. Maybe the levels are evening out? Maybe there’s no more level 30 or 40.”  
“Yeh, sure “ said Britt. “That must be it.” She sounded unconvinced and he made a face at her as she walked away.  
Greg was wondering where he could get a weapon more useful than the string of garlic he kept at his waist. He knew that there were shops of all kinds in the city. He hoped that at least one of them was not in one of the parts of the city that were dissolving. Maybe Britt would teach him how to use a sword.  
Ben had knelt down and was skinning the creatures. “At least this still works,” he grunted as his knife glided through the creatures’ hides. The skins came away clear of blood and gristle and then dried and folded themselves as they finally fell to the ground. Ben clicked and the skins disappeared, presumably into his bags.  
As Greg watched the corpses of the wolves shimmered and also disappeared.  
Ben looked at his gloves in disgust. “Well, that sucks, ” he said .The gloves were still encrusted with drying blood. “This is all a bit hit and miss isn’t it?”  
“Mm, “said Britt “we’re going to have to be careful .We could run in to a fight thinking it’s like the game and it could turn out to be real world shit .We already know that the NPCs can die and not respawn .We cant risk it happening to real people as well.”  
Greg thought about that. So he still wasn’t real, he guessed. A bit more real than most NPCs but not real like a person. What must she think about Baelin then if he, Greg, was subhuman? Maybe Baelin was like a pet, one that she was fond of and might mourn briefly if it died but that was about it. Maybe she saw no real difference between him and Baelin. Being aware meant thinking ALL the time, he suddenly realised, and thinking all the time could be uncomfortable. He started to feel almost envious of Baelin.  
Britt kept talking softly but steadily to Baelin as they walked along the road, pointing out everything to him, including the trees, the sky, and the clouds above and asking him to repeat the names. She had a rare moment of success when he recognised and named something head but mostly he repeated her lessons with anxious non-comprehension. Ben had remounted and rode ahead although this time he stayed within earshot .His horse began to produce steaming evidence of its transformation into realism. Somehow Greg doubted that it now would return to Ben’s small belt bag at the click of a finger.  
The city grew larger on the horizon and the trees blocked the light a little less. A line of shadow delineated the end of the Gloaming and the trees were greener shorter and spaced more widely apart, with grass and flowers growing in the spaces. Round red fruits grew on some of the roadside bushes and Ben plucked and ate one despite Britt’s protests.  
“What? These things have always been edible. Usually give plus five stamina for an hour too, but I guess that’s too much to hope for now.” His teeth closed over the apple with every sign of satisfaction and he spat some seeds out onto the road.  
Greg was eager to try and found he could eat the fruit easily. It tasted sweet and watery and crunchy all at once and he loved it. Strange that yesterday he’d been overwhelmed at being able to eat his own vended cheese and bread and milk. This was much better.  
Britt laughed at his excitement.  
“Wait til you’ve eaten a feast.” she teased. I’ll see if I can make one when we get to the city. Or I’ll buy you a chocolate cake or some ice-cream from the celebration vendor in front of the keep.” And then she added more soberly “If she’s still there.” She called over to Baelin. “Can you eat this, Baelin? “She asked and handed the fisherman an apple. He took it uncomprehendingly but bit into the fruit as she demonstrated .His eyes widened and he started chomping.  
“Why are you talking to Baelin so much?” asked Greg, half curiously and half jealously.  
Britt glanced at him and shrugged. Her blonde hair danced on her shoulders and she shook it back. “I can’t help it,” she said “It’s the therapist in me, I guess. A He just look like he needs help .He just seems really frightened and unsure.”  
“He was happy enough fishing off the bridge, maybe he should have been left there" said Greg sourly and immediately felt ashamed.  
The trees stopped abruptly in a curved line that mimicked the round walls of the city a kilometre ahead. At the centre of the semicircle of trees was a village.  
Greg could see three huts in a row on one side of the road. Each hut had an NPC standing in front of the door. On the other side of the road was a large building with a swinging sign advertising it as the red Lion Inn and next to the Inn was a properly equipped forge. Behind the inn was an ornamental pond with a tiny jetty jutting out into the middle .It was like a bigger, perfect version of Honeywood.  
Perfect, that is, except for the large grey void that occupied one side of the road and which was eating into the fabric of the middle hut. The hole had jagged pixelated edges that twinkled menacingly. As they watched a travelling vendor walked straight into the void apparently too intent on his pre-programmed path to notice that his path had disintegrated. There was a sound like a mosquito hitting a bug zapper and the NPC ‘s body distorted sideways and oscillated back and forth .He then disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the void, continuing his walk as though nothing untoward had happened.  
Greg shuddered. What would it be like walking out of existence and in again like that.  
Ben noticed the shudder. "Oh go on," he said, “it can’t be that bad. He didn’t look upset”  
“You try it then,” said Greg, surprising himself and he flinched, expecting to be blasted. Ben just laughed.  
“You’re learning, Bro,” was all he said.  
There was a NPC with a question mark hanging over his head standing outside one of the huts, much as Greg had done himself for many years back in Honeywood.  
Greg was torn about accosting the NPC and finding out how much he knew about the increasing fragmentation of the game. Would it be better to let the ignorant NPCs stay that way and die as they had lived? If they could have been said to live. Or was it better to make them away so that they could spend the last few hours or days of their existence in an existential crisis about the coming apocalypse? He didn’t know and he wished he didn’t care. He decided to stay silent. It was kinder that way.  
Ben didn’t share his delicacy. “So, How’s the general destruction of your pathetic universe going?” Ben asked the NPC jovially. The NPC just looked at him, raised a hand in greeting and began  
“Greetings, adventurer to the town of Templewood. Can you take..”  
“Ah, SKIP,” said Ben .He turned to the others.  
“Not much here. Let’s go on” He clicked his fingers but no horse appeared.  
“Damn. I’m so sick of this,” said Ben. Nothing seems to work. How am I going to finish this quest? They could at least have kept the game going properly until someone got to the end.”  
“Why didn’t they?” asked Greg.  
“Wasn’t it copyright issues?” asked Britt. “Although that doesn’t really make sense because this is one of the oldest of the games. It was one of the first ones made after Alan Morris developed the extrapolation technology. You know," she added to Greg “what I was telling you about – stimulating the brain to fill in the gaps to make it seem real.”  
“Yeah but he was one of those scientist types, he didn’t look after the business side and the corporations moved in .So now Everrighteous -the company that makes Conquest of the Galaxy have filed patents for the improved technology and got extended leases for this game and the men in suits are coining it. What a surprise.” Ben didn’t seem surprised or even bothered by that aspect. “I still think they could have kept it going til the end. Morris took off years ago, he’s probably gone feral in the Hills somewhere, and they could have afforded to wait. Bastards.” He looked up the long road to the city.it was uphill most of the way.  
“Damn “said Ben again and he started walking up the road, grumbling to himself.  
The road was wide and paved white with huge stones. Six horses could have ridden abreast up to the city easily. Halfway between the village and the city they passed an apple cart manned by a Bent over crone who cackled as they came alongside. Greg jumped nervously.  
“Do you know,” said Britt thoughtfully “this is usually where the music changes.”  
“What? “Said Greg  
“The music. Every part of Skycraft has its own background music. The Alliance villages play English folk music with recorders and lutes and the City plays sort of shouty military male choir stuff.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m not very musical so that’s how I think of it. Anyway, the village music stops here and the military music begin. Only its not”  
Ben was uninterested. “I always keep the music muted,” he said. “That way I can hear my combat warnings. “He saw Greg’s puzzled look and deigned to explain. “When I’m in a fight there’s a voice that yells stuff like “You’re standing in fire” and “it’s attacking YOU.” It’s an add-on. Hackers develop them and people use them to make the game easier then eventually the Devs decide it’s easier just to let everybody use it than to stamp it out so they incorporate it into the game. Bloody sight more useful than a male choir.”  
“I don’t use add-ons “said Britt primly.”  
“Of course you don’t “sighed Ben “You like to experience the game properly don’t you? Enjoying all the experiences. Including being killed by everyone who IS using the add-ons if you actually play any part of the game more difficult than collecting bloody pets and armour tokens.”  
“Authenticity can be more enjoyable than winning all the time." said Britt.  
“NOTHING is more important than winning all the time” said Ben firmly. “The only people who say otherwise are the losers.”  
They walked in the remainder of the way in silence.  
The great gates of the city were closed .A huge wooden drawbridge spanned a moat which was twenty metres below it .The bridge ended in the great iron spiked oaken doors. Set into each huge door was a smaller door, large enough for a single man to pass through and in front of these smaller doors stood a single helmed guard, legs spaced apart and holding a pike.  
As the party came within range the guards snapped to attention and pointed the pikes at them. "Halt. Password.” one said  
“For the Alliance “chorused Ben and Britt. Greg looked at the pike, which was now pointed at his throat. “For the Alliance” he stuttered and the pike relaxed only to come up in a sweep, its tip pointing at Baelin.  
“Halt! Password!” Said the guard again.  
“Come on Baelin “coaxed Britt. “Say “for the Alliance “”  
Baelin looked at her mutely.  
She tried again more forcibly.  
“Say “FOR" she ordered  
“FOR” he said obediently  
“THE”  
“THE”  
“ALLIANCE”  
“ALLIANCE”  
He looked at her anxiously and she nodded her approval and smiled at him.  
The guard relaxed and stepped aside.  
“Pass, friend.” he said to each of them in turn as they got to the door. Ben snapped his fingers, the door swung open and they stepped inside.  
There was a second moat and another long bridge leading to a second set of doors which were, luckily for them, open. The two sets of walls of the city were made of a pale blue, faintly glowing stone and the streets were paved with a slightly darker shade of the same stone. NPCs were scattered around – there was a balloon vendor just inside the gate, an ice-cream cart trundled up and down the wide road leading to the town square and the buildings on either side were shops and taverns. To the left was the “Iron Rose” and a plate and mail armour merchant and a weapons shop and to the right was the “Pig’s Ear”, a cloth and leather gear shop and a kiosk selling staffs and wands.  
Greg wandered over to the staves merchant. “Shop” he said hopefully and chose a two handed staff from the inventory offered promptly by the vendor. It was marked as plus 30 Agility and dodge. He had no idea if it would make him agile but he felt that he should try something. He’d felt useless during the fight with the wolves. He’d felt other unfamiliar emotions too and he ‘d been turning them over in his mind. There was frustration and embarrassment but mostly there was humiliation. He’d felt foolish and useless watching Ben and Britt tackle the animals. Neither of them had said anything, but he already knew that they classed him and Baelin as a separate subspecies. Perhaps if he could fight they would have to acknowledge him as an equal .He hoped so and he allowed himself a rosy moment of daydreaming before realising that that vendor was there waiting to exchange the goods for gold .  
He paid and the NPC took the gold impassively, with no sign of recognition. Greg wondered if all the other NPCs had their new memories wiped by reset or whether they retained some memories of past players and conversations and game patches. He could remember a time when his awareness was much fainter but it had been growing with each new rebirth. He remembered struggling against his self-awareness and then becoming both curious and cautious. Curious about the world and his place in it and cautious lest his evolution endanger it.  
He twirled the staff experimentally and whacked it against the corner of a building. It shattered. He sighed and threw it aside.  
Greg looked up and saw that the others were halfway down the street. Britt was pointing out the shops and other buildings tot the wide-eyed Baelin.  
“There’s the assignment centre Baelin,” she was saying, “If you can’t think of anything to do you can go there and look through the quests and dungeons and daily quests that are available all over Skycraft. And there’s the boarding kennels – you can rent out lodgings for your pets if you haven’t got any bag space left. There’s a stables too on the other side of town.” She was excited and happy to be back in a place she loved, showing it off. Baelin was looking around, clearly trying to process some of the new information.  
Ben was looking bored and trying to chivvy Britt along to the bank, which Greg knew was on one side of the main town square. One side of the square opened up onto the street. The other sides had the bank and the auction house facing each other, flanking the three-storied governor’s mansion. A silver statue of the grand sorcerer Baladoon resting his sword on the severed necks of a two-headed dragon occupied the centre of the square. Greg had never seen it but he’d asked the other NPCs at the vats to describe their parts of the world from time to time before their memories were fried and he was quite keen to see the real thing.  
The party turned into the square and Greg felt slightly uneasy. The statue was there and the buildings and one or two NPCs but something was missing. It took him a few minutes to realise that there were no players present. The main square of the town, the bank and the auction house were where players congregated. The packed little streets behind were mostly used as a barrier for enemy players as they fought their way through the city in the unscheduled raids that sometimes occurred. Otherwise they were deserted. On the other side of the maze of streets and lanes, dominating the landscape, was the Bastille with its towers and turrets and crenulations.  
Apart from a few NPCs doomed to constantly patrol its parapets the Bastille had very little player or NPC activity in sight. Instead huge whirling patches of coloured light signalled the entrance for the two raids and three dungeons that took place in separate realities in Skycraft. Players would be transported to special games within the game for the duration of the raid or dungeon. Greg knew that the players usually met outside the dungeons but no player groups were gathered at the summoning runes, jostling each other and showing off their new mounts and armour. It looked less populated than Honey wood and that was saying something  
He looked up at the four towers, one on each corner of the bastille, which held the trumpeters who signalled the hour by blowing four notes in turn. Then they all played a jolly tune together which lasted a full minute while golden musical notes showered down on them. Britt and Ben had argued about whether their time for using the key meant the four notes being blown or the tune being played.  
Behind the Bastille lay another tangle of lanes and streets mirroring those behind the town square with the focus of the opposite half of the city being the huge arena where players challenged each other in duels and team fights. Greg was willing to bet that that was deserted as well.  
He hurried after the others.  
“Um, guys?” he said  
Britt was clearly thinking along similar lines .She turned around this way and that, looking puzzled. “Where is everyone? “She asked. “There’s usually hundreds of people here.”  
Ben shrugged. “Who cares? Maybe they stopped playing once they announced the end. Or maybe the server won’t let them in. Let’s get to the bank.” He led the way up the bank steps and into the building.  
Inside the bank, facing the doors, there were four teller windows each with an NPC manning it .Two were males, and two were maidens. One of the maidens was a dark skinned brunette the other a pale blonde but it was easy to see they were variations of the same NPC. The approach to the teller windows was carpeted in red and gold and roped off with scarlet cords and golden bollards. The other two walls had hundreds of little golden safety deposit boxes set into the stone walls.  
Ben’s face fell when he saw the boxes. He took out the key.  
“I KNEW I’d seen a key like this before. When you’re in a guild you get a key like this for your bags. It’s got a number on it and you click the box with that number.”  
“So, what’s the problem?” asked Greg.  
Ben showed him the key.  
“Look, stupid. No number. And we have to find the box and click it open while they play the hourly tune on the trumpets outside. I don’t want to miss out and have to wait another hour. Even if this is the highlight of your miserable life so far, it’s not for me. I want to get through this whole quest and mark it complete as soon as possible. This place is reminding me of a department store that’s going into receivership.”  
Greg was offended.  
“But you said that the guild vaults have numbers .So can’t we narrow it down by only trying the boxes that don’t have numbers?”  
Ben actually looked disconcerted.  
“Well, ye, that might work," he admitted grudgingly.  
Britt was laughing  
“Outsmarted by an NPC. Way to go, Ben”  
Somehow, that did not make Greg feel flattered.  
“Still a lot of boxes” grumbled Ben. “The ones that haven’t been allocated to guilds yet don’t have numbers either, I don’t think”  
The trumpets started sounding the four notes of the hour.  
“Well, best get cracking then, “ said Greg unsympathetically. He left Ben muttering and clicking as the celebratory tune began to play and he wandered over to one of the bank tellers.  
“Hello adventurer “the girl NPC chirped. “How may I serve you?” The sign in front of her said “Teller Maris” and he could with difficulty see the name hovering above her in a ghostly nameplate.  
“Can I open a bank account?” he asked tentatively ‘ and she showed him the tab with the boxes to store excess belongings.  
“That will be 25 silver” she said brightly and as he passed over the money there was a chiming noise and a faintly glowing banner in front of him read: “Achievement Unlocked. Bank Slot Purchased.” Trumpets sounded from afar signalling the close of the hour’s entertainment.  
I can unlock achievements now, he thought dazedly  
“Oi!” Ben called “Over here.”  
The rogue was holding a small blue velvet box. Inside the box was another key. This one was made of silver and it was tiny but exquisitely shaped and engraved. There was a chain leading from it with a large, pink, glowing stone attached.  
Britt scrabbled in the box. "There’s no clue scroll.”  
“No need for one.” said Ben. “That pink thing’s a dungeon stone.” They all looked at him blankly.  
He broke off in irritation “Haven’t you ever done a heroic grade dungeon or raid?”  
“I’ve never done ANY dungeon or raid “she retorted. “What are you talking about?”  
Never…what did you do for five years, wander around smelling the flowers and fishing in fetid ponds?” He made an exasperated noise but explained.  
“To get into a heroic level dungeon you have to have a keystone. The group leader usually has one that drops in their previous dungeon. It fits in a slot outside the dungeon. They’re colour coded but it will say what it is if you cursor over it”  
. He waved and a banner appeared. “Keystone heroic Bastille. The Armoury”  
“The Armoury is the dungeon on the first floor of the Bastille.” Ben said. “I’ve done it loads of times. It’s a piece of cake .The key must open up a safe inside the dungeon. Easy-peasy.”  
“With a full dungeon group maybe, full of people who know what they’re doing,” said Britt grimly. “But what about us? As we are now? We’ll die like bugs.”  
“And if we die, we probably don’t come back,” added Greg. “No epic fishing rod for you.” And no existence for me, he added silently to himself, but he suspected that that was an argument, which would carry far less weight.  
“So what do we do then?” he asked.  
Ben looked around and drew himself up in what he probably thought was a heroic pose.  
“We train ‘he said firmly.  
The sorcerer Baladoon had been watching them through the silver eyes of his statue.  
"Honestly, it's like pulling teeth, trying to get this lot to move "he said half to himself. "Giving them a clue with a bloody label on it and they still get it wrong." He clapped his hands. "Minion, "he called. "A goblet of herbal rejuvenation brew if you will."  
"Coming up, boss "said someone.


	4. DUNGEONING FOR BEGINNERS

DUNGEONING FOR BEGINNERS  
Ben regarded them sardonically. They were clearly waiting for him to explain further. He raised his eyes to the heavens and spoke very slowly and patiently.  
“We are going to have to go into that dungeon. There are four of us and two of you are bloody hopeless. But you might be useful to distract the mobs. So we can work on practising that.”  
Greg didn’t like the sound of that.  
“What do you mean distract the mobs?” he asked nervously.  
“In a dungeon, “said Ben,”and I’m speaking to all of you because Britt has apparently played this game for five sodding years without going near one, you need three types of players. The tank basically distracts the mobs. He runs in and waves his weapon around and yells “Attack me! Attack me!” So they concentrate on him. He‘s all armoured up so they can’t damage him too much so he usually survives While he is running around like a maniac the DPS damage and kill the mobs without getting hit too much themselves. Or at least they hope that’s how it happens. And there’s usually a healer who keeps the tank alive.”  
“Does the healer keep the others alive too?” asked Greg hopefully.  
“Sometimes. Speaking as a DPS myself, they don’t do it often enough.”  
Baelin had been trying to follow the conversation with a look of intense concentration on his face and had surprisingly grasped the essential information  
“Britt has a sword,” said Baelin “Is Britt a tank?”  
“Well, there’s the question. Warriors can tank usually.” Ben looked at Britt. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever tanked in, say, an arena fight?” He saw her face. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve been far too busy collecting bunny rabbits for your “furry friends pet collection” achieve.”  
“I actually have that achieve,” said Britt with dignity. “It took quite a bit of time and effort”  
“I’m sure it did sweetie but it’s not going to help me get my legendary rod unless you’ve got one of those ultra rare killing rabbits that go for the jugular.”  
Greg was startled.  
Britt explained to him “One of the rabbit pets can be equipped as a trinket. You basically have it perched on your shoulder and it does massive damage but only once every 30 minutes. Yes, of course I have it Ben. It’s part of the “My Furry Friends “collection, after all.”  
“Excellent.” Ben rubbed his hands together. “That will help a bit. Let’s go to the arena practising area. I hope it’s still operational. That way we can give our teamwork a bit of a go without dying. Let’s make tracks for the other side of town, eh?”  
“Before we go,” Britt suggested” let’s get all the gold and food and bandages and healing potions we can carry. We don’t know whether the bank will be here when we get back.”  
The trip to the arena took about ten minutes because neither Ben nor Britt could access their minimap and the jumble of streets confused and disoriented them.  
“Now I know what the other side feel like when they come for a killing spree,” said Britt. “These streets are designed to trap them so we can defend the city.”  
“Why would anyone want to take part in a killing spree?” asked Greg although it was a rhetorical question. He had seen enough of players in general to know that they would kill anything for fun. He wondered what it was like out in the real world. Did they like to kill there? Or did they want to kill but feel bad about it in their world but not feel bad here inside a game? Did killing here get rid of unhealthy desires out in the other world? Or was the desire to kill players and NPCs in the game totally different to a desire to kill as a real human? He made yet another mental note to think about it more deeply. When he had the time. Which made him wonder something else. Would he ever have the time to think things through or would his existence end before he had any answers? He sighed with the mental weight of it all.  
“Come on, idiot. Stop daydreaming about bloody garlic or whatever you think about. You’re falling behind as usual. Get a MOVE on.”  
Greg also wondered if Ben ever thought about anything except his damn fishing rod. He dragged his feet and followed reluctantly. Why would he follow eagerly to what was sure to be a painful and possibly fatal episode? He caught up with Baelin who was trudging along, his brow furrowed in thought. He looked troubled.  
This was a new look and Greg was mildly concerned. “Are you alright?” he asked Baelin.  
“I’m. Thinking,” Baelin said unhappily. It was clearly an unpleasant sensation. He shook his head. “Talk later.” He said and plodded on  
They walked around the bastille via the moat path, which curved around it and entered the second tangle of streets, the one between the bastille and the arena. They got hopelessly lost again, due partly to Ben’s insistence that the pattern of the streets was the same as on the other side of the bastille and that he remembered it. He was clearly wrong on one or both counts and Greg and Baelin had a nice rest while Ben and Britt stood and argued and blamed each other.  
Finally Britt yelled. “Well, I’m going THIS way” and she dived into the streets again. Ben grunted and followed, leaving Greg and Baelin to trail behind.  
The arena was a huge walled in area where matches took place day and night, both singly in the cages at the edges and in pairs and larger teams in the centre area.  
The central fight zone changed on a rotating daily basis. One day it was a jungle scene with vines and tall trees and rain obscuring everything. The next day a cemetery would appear with tombstones to hide behind and burial pits t fall into. Then there was the volcanic lava pit; the frozen mountain, the deserted palace and once a month the bare arena floor with nowhere to hide .Ben loved that one. As a rogue he could hide anywhere, even in plain sight. He could jump out from his own illusion mist to stun an enemy and stab him while he was helpless.  
There were Benches above where players who just wanted to watch the fights could park their toons and the barracks opposite had a betting house on one side. Vendors sold rotten tomatoes and glitter confetti for to add to the booing and cheering emotes that the spectators would make.  
Britt led them effortlessly into the seating above the main arena. There were a few NPC vendors still walking around, mostly males with a scattering of maidens, but no players in sight. The arena itself was empty.  
“First we need to gear you two up” said Ben. “See that big building? It’s the barracks and there’s an auction house attached to the side .See if the AH is working and if you can use it. Britt can give you her gold."  
“I have gold.” said Greg with dignity  
“For your poxy quest rewards? Your quests pay, what, 50 silver if you’re lucky? That wouldn’t buy you a bunch of grapes at an auction.’  
“That poxy 50 silver can be handed out a thousand times a day in high season,” said Greg, nettled. “And I have to have gold to pay for all the rubbish that the players vendor at me too. They sell me the useless stuff that’s no good to them. Bits of bone, pieces of rags, all the old boots and tangled hooks they bring up when Baelin is teaching them low level fishing.” He stopped, flushed. He hadn’t realised how strongly he felt about being regarded as a human garbage disposal by the players  
“Ok, Ok keep your hair on “said Ben. He even grinned. “Just toddle off to the auction house, will you, and ill set up a practice match against bots.”  
“Bots”  
“Robots.” said Ben. “NPCs but programmed to respond in complex rotations to player rotations and movements. They’re good for training against dungeon bosses who are pretty much robots too and even ok for training for arena fights against human players.” He shooed them with a movement of his hands “Off you go then.”  
Greg and Baelin looked at each other.”  
But what do we buy? “Asked Greg. “What do you want us to be?”  
“Armour and weapons, moron,” said Ben. “Just go for the best you can buy, don’t worry about stats like agility or dodge, just go for high levels.’  
“Well, that was helpful, I don’t think,” said Greg as they walked away. “Luckily I’ve spent time watching Bodger the blacksmith do his thing and listening to the players around him talking about their gear.’  
“Who?" asked Baelin.  
“Bodger” said Greg exasperatedly “The Blacksmith in Honeywood. He’s literally been ten metres away from you for the past seven years, not to mention he looks exactly like you .How can you not have noticed him?”  
Baelin shrugged helplessly  
“It was always just a nice day for fishin’,” he said in a small voice. Greg softened and patted him reassuringly.  
“And it will be again someday, my friend,” he said and he thought “I hope.”  
Would Baelin be happy going back to throwing a line off of the bridge every five minutes and giving out starter level fishing rods to new players? Come to think of it would he, Greg, be happy standing in front of the hovel in Honeywood and mouthing the same quest hour after hour. He thought about that. There was something calming, almost hypnotic in being an aware NPC with a limited role. He thought he could slip back into it quite comfortably if he had the chance .If the game ever righted itself.  
The auction house was deserted. On the walls hung shifting lists of goods and services with the current bids posted. In front of each of the lists was a teleportation cube upon which the purchased item would appear. Greg saw with relief that the lists were still in motion. He gestured Baelin over.  
“We’ll get you stuff first .As much armour as possible and a sword and shield. That might keep you alive for a bit.” He scanned through the lists quickly and made a selection. It felt good having some control over, well, anything really. The gear appeared on the little platform and he swept it off item by item until there was a large pile on the floor off the auction house.  
“Take your clothes off,” he ordered. “We’ve got to get this stuff on you.”  
Baelin looked horrified and clutched his fishing hat protectively.  
“No. No, no. This is Baelin.” He said it without inflection and Greg was left wondering whether he meant “THIS is Baelin, this IS Baelin or even this is BAELIN.” He shook his head and said impatiently. “You have to take the old stuff off to put the new stuff on.”  
“Britt can keep your clothes in her bag. Unless..” Greg turned back to the auction board and turned around sporting a small leather bag hung on his belt.  
“Take the hat off Baelin,” he said “We’ll try it like this.” He clicked at the hat and it vanished .he tapped his bag and sure enough, there was .As an afterthought he shouted “SHOP” and pointed at himself. His vended items appeared to his view Sweet, he thought. “We’ll get you one, too, to try for later.”  
Baelin had disrobed and Greg felt a pang of jealousy at the muscled torso the fisherman displayed. Whoever had designed the Baelin NPC had done a good job, he acknowledged. Greg was built on slimmer lines and was noticeably shorter. Instead of luxuriant curls and a beard, Greg had soft brown hair cut in a ragged bowl around his head. It’s better to be slim and to move elegantly, he told himself firmly, remembering Baelin’s awkward stride as he shouldered his fishing rod. Remember you are the sophisticated one he reminded himself –NPCs like you are chosen to be bankers and merchants and auctioneers, not fishermen and blacksmiths and soldiers.  
He kicked the pile of plate armour over to Baelin. “Stick those on, they’ll adapt to your size and, um, sex. Don’t ask," he added hastily. He would bet that Britt had had a few words to say when the Armour of Argon, which was a burnished silver breastplate and leggings for men, turned into a chainmail bikini when she equipped it. The thought of Baelin in a mail bikini made him blench whilst the thought of Britt…he hastily thought of something else.  
Baelin struggled into he unfamiliar armour. “What do these do? “he asked plaintively, holding out what looked like a pair of wide bangles.  
“They’re bracers. They go on your wrists.”  
Baelin looked unconvinced but slid the bracers over his hands. They elongated and wrapped themselves around his brawny forearms.  
“Told you,” said Greg.  
He stepped forward and slid the round shield onto Baelin’s left forearm and proffered him the sword. Baelin looked from his fishing rod to the sword and back several times before letting the rod drop to the floor. Greg clicked on the rod and it disappeared into his bags. “You can have this one back anytime you want.” he reassured Baelin “Or you could even try one of the more advanced ones in your own vendor supply.”  
Baelin thought about that then nodded and smiled. He waved the sword around dangerously close to Greg’s head. He smiled more broadly  
“Why don’t you take it outside and do that?” suggested Greg. “I have to buy some gear for myself”  
Greg had been thinking long and hard about his own kit. The weapon was what defined your class. Swords meant you could slash and hack, daggers meant sneaky skewering, bows meant shooting and staffs meant either dancing and whirling around hitting and jabbing or standing back and casting spells. When players started they chose a class and were given their first weapon and they took it from there. The clothing just gave extra statistics like spell power or stamina or hit accuracy.  
Greg had realised something as he saw Britt decapitating the wolves and then again when he saw Ben skinning. He was extremely squeamish. He didn’t like blood or guts or anything that smelt or was sticky. That ruled out quite a lot. He also panicked easily so he didn’t think he could be a healer no matter how badly the group needed one. He’d decided to be a spell caster. He remembered a lot of the spells they yelled as they duelled other players in Honeywood and he thought he could replicate a few.  
There was one level 110 staff on offer and it was called The Staff of Staffs .It was nearly two metres high, carved out of ebony and surmounted by a purple stone wreathed in smoke. Greg bought it and to his delight he could equip it as easily as Baelin had picked up the sword. The rest of the level 110 gears were less enthralling but the stats were good and he bought and equipped the lot.  
“Why are you wearing a dress?” asked Baelin as Greg came out of the auction house.  
“It’s not a dress, it’s a robe ‘said Greg through gritted teeth. “Spell casters wear robes, remember? You’ve met enough of them”  
“It’s pink,” said Baelin critically.  
“It’s purple,” said Greg.  
“No, the pointy hat is purple,” said Baelin “you look funny, Greg. Don’t worry; Britt will like it if you look funny. It will make her laugh.”  
“Oh good “said Greg and stomped off in the direction of the arena’s central area. He only fell over his robes twice on the way.  
Ben guffawed when he saw him. “Look who’s all gussied up. Greg the garlic farmer and part time arcane mage. ROFL” He pronounced the acronym for “rolling on the floor laughing” as “roffle” and Greg was willing to bet he also said LOL when he felt like it. The guy was such a dick.  
Britt was far kinder. “I think it’s a great idea, Greg,” she said encouragingly. “We needed a caster. It’s a good job for someone who is intelligent and a thinker. And thanks for getting Baelin the protective gear. It will help protect him if we’re in a fight” Greg smiled gratefully at her.  
“But do we actually have a caster?” asked Ben “Only one way to find out.”  
Ben pointed to a target dummy that had been set up in the centre of the field.  
“Have a go at that “he said.  
Greg licked his lips nervously and tried to remember the duels he had watched. .He pointed the staff at the target and yelled “Arcane shot!”  
A blast of purple fire came from the end of the staff and knocked Greg back  
“Not bad “said Ben “But try pointing the right end this time”  
Greg tried again, pointing the skull at the target. “Arcane rain” he yelled and a shower of silver and purple fell on the target, which then promptly disintegrated. There was smell like hot metal in the air and a slightly purple haze around where the target had been.  
“O-KAY”shouted Ben enthusiastically. “We DO have ourselves a caster.”  
Britt clapped and Baelin waved his sword around happily.  
“Now comes the interesting bit,” said Ben. “We need to work as a team against the mobs. First we fight against one minion then against a bunch of them then against a boss type. Garlic Guy-remember to yell interrupts if the caster tries to get a spell off. I can elbow jab him for the same effect but Ill be busy. Do your best because the caster is all yours. Hit the gong, girlie”  
Britt picked up the striker and looked at it with tightened lips .She turned her gaze to Ben and tossed the mallet back and forth between her hands as though wondering if his head was a more appropriate target before coming to a decision and striking the gong that hung on a frame near the targets. A loud voice started a countdown. “TEN, NINE, EIGHT..” and Britt dropped the mallet and took up her sword in a defensive posture.  
A sole minion in battle armour ran out at her with a lowered pike. She dispatched him with a single thrust. The body shimmered and dissolved before Greg could even see it properly. The countdown started again and this time five minions ran out. Four were dressed in armour and had various melee weapons equipped, whilst the fourth wore a dress-ROBE, Greg reminded himself –and carried a wand.  
“Get the caster, Greg!” yelled Britt and she landed in the middle of the melee group in a single stomping leap, sweeping her sword around. Ben had vanished but now suddenly re-appeared in the middle of the throng crouching and stabbing with his daggers. Greg felt a moment of panic but righted himself and pointed the staff.  
“Arcane rain!” he screamed in a slightly hysterical voice. The rain fell and the enemy caster staggered but recovered enough to get a bolt of green lightning off which Greg avoided by throwing himself to the ground. From there he raised his staff and shouted “Arcane shot!” The robed enemy fell, writhing, and disappeared.  
The last minion shimmered and vanished .The countdown began again.  
“This is the big one” Ben shouted .He was clearly enjoying himself.  
The same five minions appeared, reinforced by two archers on their flanks.  
“Hold back” ordered Ben “make a close formation.”  
“What?” asked Greg and Baelin simultaneously.  
“Bunch together,” said Ben “and wait for them to attack and for the boss to appear.” The archers nocked their bows as if in response and the other minions made a semicircle .A whirl of green smoke started forming a gateway, which was situated just behind the line of minions, and a figure in heavy green armour stepped through. Its face was hidden by a glowing green helm.  
“Attack them, my followers and be rewarded ‘said the figure in a deep guttural voice and it raised aloft an enormous blade on which writhed runes of emerald fire.  
Britt stepped forward and one of the archers let fly, the arrow striking Britt’s bikini breastplate. She faltered and the minions rushed in, followed by the hulking green brute. Ben had vanished again. Greg raised his staff and aimed it at the enemy caster again but he didn’t think taking him down was going to do much good.  
‘Nooooooo” the long bellow came from Baelin as Britt staggered backwards. He rushed forwards flailing about with his sword and jabbing indiscriminately at all the enemies including the boss. They turned their attention to him and in that moment Ben appeared and started killing them. Britt recovered and drove forward and Greg killed the caster with a bolt of arcane energy. The entire enemy group were still concentrating on Baelin. Baelin was yelling “No hurt Britt! No hurt Britt!” as he whacked madly at the underlings.  
“That’s it, “ yelled Ben “keep going Baelin! Hit them. And try to get on the other side of the boss to us – see if you can get him to turn toward you and away from us.”  
Baelin looked confused.  
“Stand by the practice target, Baelin” yelled Greg “and we’ll get him from the other side” The fisherman nodded and moved, turning the boss away .The minions started falling and dissolving and while the enemy boss was slicing unsuccessfully at Baelin’s epic armour the others finished off the entire enemy team, boss and all, from behind.  
“YES YES YES” Ben was screaming in triumph and pleasure. “Ladies and gentleman we have ourselves a TANK! He’s a natural!” He added in a more normal tone of voice. “Of course he’s a natural. He’s as thick as a brick and doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear. What more do you need?’ He thumped Baelin enthusiastically on the back, taking care not to get too close to the still unsheathed sword. Hiss usual bad tempered visage was shining with good humour.  
“We might do this after all.” he said cheerfully. “If we keep ourselves well-fed and take along some bandages and potions.”  
“I did good?” Baelin asked Britt hopefully. She hugged him in reply. He glowed.  
Britt turned to Greg and smiled at him “You did well too, Greg.” she said graciously.  
“Thanks “ he muttered.  
Ben saw his look and dug him in the ribs. “Always the way, mate. Once there’s a tank around, no one else ever gets a look in, no matter how dopey said tank is. Story of my life.” He walked off laughing.  
“But why did you suddenly join in, Baelin? “Asked Greg as they followed slowly behind the still chortling Ben.  
“Britt was hurt,” said Baelin simply.” I had to help.” He hesitated and went on.  
“I did not like Britt having to be the tank. Britt is nice .She likes bunny rabbits.”  
Yeh and she can kill a wolf with a single blow, thought Greg. The two aren’t necessarily incompatible. He was ashamed that his own first thought when Britt faltered was to worry that he might be next in line if she went down. He’d also felt an icy shaft of fear when Baelin had crashed forward and he fretted to himself about that. Could he be developing feelings for Baelin? It was possible, he supposed, but he was pretty sure it was Britt who was tugging at his heart .The concern for Baelin seemed to be older and deeper. Maybe they had been more than friends in some long ago reset. He knew that the storylines changed with the big patches. Perhaps they had been cousins or something. Honeywood was a small village after all.  
In the end he fist bumped Baelin awkwardly. “Way to go, bro.”  
Baelin just grunted. “I would like my hat now, please.” was all he said.  
The entrance to the dungeon was on the first floor of the Bastille. There was a walkway running all around that level of the castle with NPC guards patrolling. They were a mixture of males and females as Britt pointed out with obvious pleasure.  
“Maybe they had some leftovers after they stocked the kitchens with cooking trainers “said Ben snidely.  
“Why have guards at all up here?” asked Greg. “The bad guys don’t come out of the dungeons do they?” He had heard that each dungeon was like a mini world and that the creatures inside it couldn’t come out. Only players could come and go at will through the portals that guarded the dungeons  
“It’s because of the enemy invasions,” said Britt. “To get the “Storm the Bastille” achieve they have to kill the governor in his mansion in the town square and hang his body from the battlements then rescue the enemy prisoners from the dungeon of the bastille.”  
“And kill a hundred enemy players on the way for the achieve “Jest visiting Gerdorm” said Ben nostalgically. “You get the feral cat mount for that. On the alliance side you d they same thing in the marshland city in the sunken fortress of Karteen.Wild warhorse mount for that. I’ve gotten both “he added with pride.  
“I thought you could only have one character,” said Greg suspiciously  
“Two banned accounts mate. And too many people from the other side didn’t want me back there after my ban expired anyway so it was easier to make a new one and start again.” He looked rather pleased with himself. Being a rogue was something Ben seemed to take great pride in.  
They walked along the parapet. There was a bulge in the walls where the summoning runes were, placed there to accommodate the area where the players met up before doing the dungeon. Then a little way along was the actual entrance to the instance.  
“And here we are!” Ben said it with a flourish. They were standing before an enormous stone doorway. The entire doorway was filled in with a sheet of what looked like sparking pink plexiglass. Ben thumped it several times and it recoiled with a faint shower of pink sparks.  
“Can’t get in without the key,” he explained’  
A metre up at the side of the door was a small recess and at the bottom of the recess was a groove that fitted the pink stone attached to the key.  
“It’s misnamed,” said Ben. “The stone is the actual key. The key is just for appearances.”  
“How do enemy players get in?” asked Britt. “I know that they can do these dungeons”  
“Same way we get to theirs”, said Ben.” They go to a special room in their fortress where there’s an enemy caster who’s a traitor to the cause and she opens up a doorway to the inside of the dungeon. Then you can kill her.”  
Wow, thought Greg. There’s an NPC job that must really suck.  
“So, lets give this a go ‘said Ben .He looked at Baelin and sighed. “And put your helmet back on, Tank boy. The armour doesn’t just protect you from damage; it generates the threat that makes the enemy want to attack you and, more to the point, leave us alone. But you have to actually be wearing it.”  
Addressing Baelin that way was probably a step up from Fisher Boy, thought Greg. Certainly it was better than Garlic Guy. He wondered what it would take for Ben to actually call them by their names.  
Ben pressed the stone more firmly in place “stand back “ he said and they jumped as the barrier sparkled violently and shattered, splattering pink goo all over them. All except Ben, who had jumped aside .He laughed at them. “One of the Dev.’s little jokes” he said. Let’s go in. I’ll run you through what to expect on the other side.”  
Greg felt a faint tingle as he passed through the doorway. Looking behind, he saw that the pink window had become intact again.  
Now they were standing in a round antechamber made of the same stone as the Bastille. Three corridors led off in three separate directions. The central corridor had a pink plexiglass sheet over its entrance.  
“That’s the end boss corridor,” said Ben ‘this dungeon has three bosses .We have to defeat the first two to get to the main boss.O.K. Listen up. The first boss is your basic tank and spank.”  
“What?” said Greg and Baelin simultaneously.  
Ben closed his eyes briefly and gritted his teeth. “Tank and spank. Like the Bot boss we did. Probably the same dude, they recycle skins a lot in this game ”He glanced at Baelin and Greg as he spoke. “No offense.’  
“So..tank and spank means what? “Asked Greg  
“It means the tank turns him away and we kill him. Nothing special. Just don’t die.”  
“Great raid leader advice.” said Britt. “Have you thought about writing a book?’  
“Yes, actually, I was a raid leader of my guild for over a year and I wrote several guides for them.. Until they kicked me for being a loot ninja. Their loss.”  
Ben went on. “Second boss is a multiple. “That means more than one “he said sarcastically. “Three women, all spell casters. The one that shoots a bow isn’t a straightforward hunter- her arrows have confusion spells attached. You have to dodge them – don’t interrupt her, our interrupts have cool downs and we need them for the others. One of them is a succubus – she will charm you and you will begin to attack your friends. She’s the one who you have to interrupt. The middle boss is a summoner – she’ll just summon waves of minions that we have to dps down. Any questions?”  
“Ninja?” asked Greg  
“DPS?” said Baelin doubtfully.  
“DPS is damage per second – the faster and harder it is the quicker the boss dies. Ninja..” Ben hesitated.  
“It’s to sneakily grab loot usually from your team mates” supplied Britt “Even I know that one. People are always saying it in the forums. Your name might have been mentioned now that I think of it.”  
“Speaking of which, there’s some rare loot in this “said Ben. There’s a toy and a pet. But of course, Britt wouldn’t ninja no matter how much she wanted it’  
“No “ said Baelin decidedly “she would not.” Ben rolled his eyes.  
“So-lets go, “said Ben and he led them down the left hand corridor.  
There were two heavily armed minions at the door of the boss room. They dispatched them with ease, Baelin joyfully yelling “Baelin tanks and spanks “ as he lay about him with his sword.  
The iron studded oaken doors swung open and they saw the boss seated on a wood and iron throne, which was poised on a circular flight of steps. He did indeed look like the Bot they had fought, except he was about ten per cent larger and his amour and sword were fiery red.  
“Hit him with a spell, caster,” ordered Ben “he’s easier to kill down in the room”  
Caster, thought Greg. I can live with that.  
“NOW, you idiot, not tomorrow”  
Greg aimed his staff and shot an arcane bolt at the boss who roared with anger and surprise and trundled heavily down the steps, aiming for Baelin.  
“Kite him, tank,” called out Ben.  
“Kite? You missed explaining that one,” shrieked Greg.  
“Walk backward around the steps so he follows you.” Ben distracted the giant with a flurry of stabbing motions, giving Baelin a chance to obey. They fought hand –to- hand around the throne plinth for two minutes then the boss stopped stock-still and ran to his throne. The team were frozen in place for ten seconds as he sat down.  
“Hit him caster,” screamed Ben. ”It’s time for phase two.”  
Greg obeyed automatically, hitting the boss with a purple missile. The boss stood up, turned red and swelled in size by at least twenty per cent. Oh my god thought Greg, what have I done.  
“Hurry up. We’ve got to get him down before he hits 200% or he explodes “called Ben.  
Greg was beginning to wonder if there was another reason Ben lost his position as his guild raid leader. The inability to brief his team, for example.  
“Fine” he said tautly and started spamming the boss with every spell he could remember. Britt was swinging her blade like a gladiator and Ben could hardly be seen for the blurring of his knives.  
The boss pursued Baelin relentlessly right down to the final moment when a poison dart form Ben’s trinket brought him down.  
“Killing blow “said Ben with satisfaction. “That’s how it’s done”  
The others watched as Ben stooped and retrieved something from the corpse.  
“Oh sorry “he said looking back up at them “I put it on master loot .I pick it all up and distribute it at the end.”  
I just bet you do, thought Greg.  
They left the room and returned to the central chamber  
“I just hope that the explanation for the next one was complete “he muttered to Baelin.  
“Baelin is TANK” said Baelin happily and slashed his sword through the air. Greg gave up.  
The door down the net corridor was of silvery wood with purple vines growing over the dull round pewter knocker. Ben rapped sharply three times and was answered by three musical notes in an unnerving descending scale.  
The door swung open.  
Three women were in the room. Their skins were silver, their hair was purple and their clothing was almost non-existent. They wore variants of the same purple bikini with silver clasps attaching transparent drapes in strategic places. Britt snorted .The woman on the right was leaning on a silver bow, the one to the left had a silver imp on her shoulder and the one in the middle, who was the only one seated, had a silver horn on her lap.  
The trio looked up.  
I see we have visitors. We must make them welcome.” The woman on the left purred.  
“So which one do I hit?” whispered Greg “which one activates first?’  
“They all activate together,” answered Ben almost absently. He was smiling reminiscently at the demons. Britt jabbed him sharply and he jerked out of his reverie.  
“Hit the succubus – the one with the imp,” Ben directed. She’s the one we have to kill first or she’ll charm the tank then we’re dead.”  
“Ok”  
“O and we use this.” Ben produced a small green bomb from his bag. It’s a haste bomb. It will make s move twice as fast. Just try to keep on your feet. OK gogogo” he threw the bomb and Baelin jumped forward at the order. He really was getting quite good at this, thought Greg with grudging admiration.  
Greg shot the succubus who threw the imp at him .It attached itself to his face and he fought for breath. Then he relaxed and his mind filled with a purple mist. He saw Britt moving towards him with her sword drawn and he dreamily raised his staff and pointed it at her. She smacked his face, hard, before he could get a bolt off .The imp curled up and disappeared in a curl of acrid smoke. The purple haze disappeared.  
“Interrupt her!” hollered Ben.  
Greg looked and saw the succubus preparing to launch her imp. He yelled, “Interrupt” and pointed his staff. The imp fell flaccidly to the floor and the demon shrieked.  
“Keep at her “ordered Ben.  
A silver arrow narrowly missed Greg as he took aim again and he tried to move into a position where he could see both of the flanking demons.  
Then the seated demon raised the silver horn to her mouth and blew the same series of eerie notes that had opened the door. Greg looked around and saw a mass of little purple demons running in through the open doors.  
“Arcane rain “ he yelled on reflex and turned back to interrupt the succubus again .He felt a sudden pain in his left calf and looked down. There was a silver arrow protruding from his robe and suddenly he couldn’t walk straight .He clawed himself upright and tapped the ruby ring that he had bought at the auction house. Another sharp pain in his hand and he could walk upright again. The free motion potion in the ring he had bought at the auction house was clearly worth the gold he had paid. He spun around and blasted the succubus who exploded.  
“Critical strike!” yelled Ben happily. “Now the archer.”  
Greg was hit one more time before they brought the archer down but this time his ring was still recharging and he had to walk like a drunkard for the full ten seconds.  
The seated demon was blowing her horn every minute and the room was filling with purple mini demons that were slightly larger with every wave.  
Ben was in his element, his blades a perfect storm as he slashed and stabbed. Britt and Baelin were doing a reasonable job with their swords but both of them were designed to take down one or two enemies at a time. Greg surprised himself by remembering a few other spells that spread over a large area and weakening the horde for Bens killing blows.  
“Kill the demon, tank,” said Ben. “We’ll keep this lot off.” and Baelin promptly sliced off the remaining demon’s head.  
Use the spell “gather my enemies” now,” said Ben .say it”  
“Gather my enemies’ said Baelin, slightly puzzled  
With a whoosh all the little demons were swept into a pyramid in front of Baelin. That made it much easier to mow them down especially with the lack of a boss attacking.  
When it was over there was a little silver treasure chest sparkling on the now empty chair. Ben opened it and a tiny little purple imp hopped out, chittering to itself.  
“Oooh “said Britt.  
‘Give it to Britt.” said Baelin  
Ben looked annoyed and Baelin scowled.  
“Is pet. Belongs to Britt”  
Ben grimaced and handed it over. Britt held the thing close and a flash of green fire bonded them. The imp hopped up on her shoulder contentedly.  
‘You need to put it away,” Ben warned, “we’ll need your rabbit for the last boss.”  
Britt cooed at the imp and snapped her fingers twice. The imp disappeared and a small white rabbit took its place. The rabbit had mad glaring red eyes and blood dripping from its mouth.  
Britt scratched the top of the thing’s head fondly and Ben said with satisfaction. “Much better.”  
“So, the last boss?” ventured Greg.  
“Is a bitch,”affirmed Ben. “At one point almost literally since he’s a shape changer.”  
“So here it goes,” he continued. “When we go in there, Baladoon will be tied to a chair. He’ll ask us to help. Then he’ll disappear. Then circles of Baladoons’l surround us. Only one is the real one. If he touches the chair before we kill the others he is dead and the dungeon resets. If one of the bad ones touches us we are dead. That’s phase one. Then the real one goes to the chair and disappears and a fake one comes and changes into three types of beast. In succession.”  
“Three kinds? Can you be a little more specific?” asked Britt  
“NO, actually I can’t “said Ben “It’s random from the twenty or so skins in the game. Same as I cant tell you which Baladoon is the real one –he’ll have different gloves or hair or a ring or something.”  
“Can I do the gather all my enemies?” asked Baelin eagerly  
“No they come in a circle we have to run around getting them down. Which reminds me – show me that sword.”  
Baelin stuck his sword out at Ben who said “Not like that you idiot – hilt first unless you wan to skewer me.”  
He inspected it.  
“Just as I thought .No wonder you did so well with the demons. You’re not a warrior – you’re a paladin”  
“What is a paladin?” asked Baelin slowly, rolling the word around in his mouth as though he like d the taste.  
“Like a warrior but righteous. Your sword won’t do evil or even bad. So no “kill twenty peaceful citizens” quests for you mate. You can kill demons and evil wizards, as well as people and animals that attack you first. That’s about it. Sorry about that.” Ben didn’t sound particularly sorry .He was absentmindedly applying a poison to his favourite rogue daggers. The knives gave off a green yellow vapour, which curled towards the ceiling. Ben coughed slightly.  
“Why would you be sorry?” asked Baelin. “I don’t want t kill peaceful people.”  
“Of course you don’t. That’s why you play a pally.”  
Greg was left puzzling over this and tried to reconcile it with his previous worried thinking. So was Ben saying that the class you chose reflected your real character? So Baelin was pure and Britt wanted to be a warrior but preferred collecting pets and Ben was a weasel who liked to stab people in the back both literally and figuratively? Fair call for them but what about him? Was it really his nature to wear a robe and stand back throwing things into the fray from a place of safety? Well, yes, it made perfect sense as a combat role to him, now that he thought about it and now that he’d seen the alternatives up close. Except that he still wasn’t sure why he had to wear a dress.  
“Well it means the first phase might be tricky for you because you are going to have to cut down adds that look like the guy we are rescuing. The shape shifting not so much.”  
“So, let’s go?” asked Britt.  
“Yeh and save the killer bunny for the last shape shift phase.”  
Ben knocked sharply on the plexiglass and it shattered, spattering them once more with pink goo. Three beasts launched themselves down the corridor, the wolf leaping into space towards Britt, a boar rushing directly at Baelin and a giant serpent slithering toward Greg as he cowered at the back of the group. Ben had vanished as soon as the barrier shattered. Now he appeared behind the animals, slicing and dicing in a storm cloud of toxic fumes. The serpent began falling apart in evenly spaced slices but to Greg’s horror the head and fangs still kept coming .He raised his staff, closed his eyes and yelled “arcane destruction” before losing consciousness. Which was a pity because he missed seeing the wall of dark purple that erupted from his staff, reared up like a wave and surged down the corridor, taking all three of the weakened creatures out.  
He came to in the corridor with Britt trying to force a potion between his lips.  
“What were you thinking, Greg?” she asked severely. “You nearly killed yourself. Apart from that being a level 110 tier 21 spells, it takes all of your mana and most of your health to deliver it. It’s virtually a suicide spell.”  
“Yeh “ said Ben “and now we have to wait while you get your mana and health back. Stupid time to use it. Although,” he added with grudging admiration “I’m surprised you pulled it off. I’ve seen a caster finish off a raid boss with that spell when the rest of the raid was dead. Killed him too but he survived for ten seconds after the boss so we got the achieve. Good times.”  
He added cheerfully “now we know what the three shape changers will be. Much tougher than those of course but same forms.”  
“At some point “said Britt acidly, “You might try to develop an ability to explain things fully. Before we all die would be a good time.”  
“Whatever.” Ben shrugged. “I’ve never believed in all that discussion and strategies stuff. Best strat is run in and kill everything in my opinion.”  
Greg grasped his staff and saw with dismay that the writhing purple around the skull had vanished.  
“Means your mana is depleted” said Ben, noticing “and look, the runes carved into the wood aren’t lit up anymore. Means the spells are on cool down. We need to wait til they’re full up again.  
The waiting took ten minutes before Greg and his staff were both recovered enough to go on.  
There was no door at the end of this corridor, just a wide entrance into the final chamber. It was a round domed room with a silvery finish that half reflected them in repeated indistinct figures around the continuous wall. As they entered the room the entrance closed, trapping them in a perfect half sphere.  
In the centre of the room was a plain white kitchen chair and tied to the chair was a man, a golden diadem set with purple stones resting on his curled black hair .He had a black beard which was oiled into a point. His eyes watched them imploringly as they entered He wore violet robe with a collar that raised behind his head His slippers and girdle were golden. His hands were tied behind his back with white rope, which was wound around his chest and legs, tying him to the chair. He glowed with a white light.  
“Beware “he said softly in a whisper that reverberated around the room. “All is not what it seems.”  
He vanished leaving the chair and the ropes empty.  
Ben had run behind the chair as he entered the room.  
“Gloves are dark purple, no embroidery, no rings.” he called out. Greg wondered what he was to make of that.  
He soon guessed the reason for the information. At least twenty replicas of the man, Grand Sorcerer Baladoon he supposed, stepped out of the mirrored walls and began advancing slowly towards the middle of the room. The one closest to him was different t, but how? Then he saw it –the glitter of rings on the hands .He raise his staff and yelled ‘arcane bolt” and the image exploded. All around the room Ben danced, taking out image after image. Britt was methodically moving from form to form and cutting down the unsatisfactory copies. Greg was slow but managed to get another, barefooted, duplicate.  
“Two left.”  
“There’s one behind the throne “screamed Britt and leaped. She raised her sword to strike and was tackled to the ground by Baelin.  
Ben cut down the remaining replica and they turned to watch Britt’s near victim reach the throne .The light from the man on the seat glowed more intensely as the image was absorbed and both men vanished, leaving a chair with empty ropes. “Good call from the tank “said Ben sincerely.  
Another image appeared, of a blonde man with a clean-shaven face and a cruel smile. He was clothed much as the other man had been, only in scarlet and silver with a silver crown.  
“My, my, ”he said sneeringly. “Aren’t you the clever ones?” He wavered and morphed into a gigantic slathering red boar, which charged at Baelin, its tusks tearing through the shield as if it was made of paper. Greg yelled spells, Britt slashed at it from behind and Ben rolled underneath, skewering the beast with his daggers. It staggered, fell on its side and lay still.  
As it twitched on the floor it morphed again, turning into a silver serpent. Its eyes and fangs glowed red as it reared up and struck at Baelin and Britt in turn. Baelin parried easily but Britt fell, clutching her shoulder, which was oozing red smoke. Her face went pale and waxy and her eyes began to close. A nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled the air around her.  
Greg’s heart lurched and he dodged the serpent by rolling underneath its strikes in order to reach Britt. She was breathing shallowly and unevenly through blue lips. He desperately clicked at his bag until a pile of bandages lay between them and he started applying them to her shoulder. Her breathing slowed and became more even and the pink returned to her lips but she did not waken. The disappointed rabbit sitting on her other shoulder snarled madly at him.  
“Greg!” He looked up and saw the snake rearing up even as Ben shouted. Rather than roll away, leaving Britt exposed, he raised his staff, losing precious time as he shook it loose from where all his rolling around had entangled it in his robe.  
“Arcane prison “he said feebly and crawled away, dragging Britt as the beast was enmeshed in a purple crystal.  
“Arrgh, don’t do that one “cursed Ben “They come out with full health.”  
“Don’t care” said Greg weakly and vomited.  
The prism shattered and the serpent came straight at Greg but was turned aside by Baelin who yelled a command “Attack me.” Straight and to the point, thought Greg as he wiped the sick from his staff and struggled upright.  
“Arcane bolt!” he yelled over and over as bolts of vomit-flavoured purple struck the enemy target in quick succession. Ben was stabbing with brutal efficiency and Baelin kept the creature focussed on him for the rest of the phase fight. They wore it down but not without suffering some minor wounds and it was with some dread that they waited for the boss to take his final form. The serpent shuddered and twisted and the body of a giant red wolf took shape.in the mist left behind.  
The fight against the wolf was anticlimactic. Baelin simply lunged forward and decapitated it with one easy swipe.  
“Nice” said Ben admiringly.  
They all turned to Britt who was now sitting up. She waved weakly towards the chair in the middle of the room.  
The two men were facing each other over the chair, which was now broken and collapsed.  
“Your champions have bested me, brother,” said the blonde man, “but I will meet you again on the field of battle .Be prepared for what is to come.” He waved his hand and writhing silver smoke obscured him as he vanished.  
Baladoon turned to them, holding out a small golden chest.  
“Take this champions and take my thanks with it. Until we meet again.” He, too, vanished .The smoke was golden.  
Britt coughed and said hoarsely “That’s it? Don’t we find out the next step?”  
“Wait.” said Ben “If someone’s on a special quest, there’s a separate clip after the dungeon ends. Sometimes you have to do another fight.”  
“O No," moaned Greg. He still felt sick and his head ached. Britt looked wan and Baelin simply stood stolidly awaiting whatever might come. Only Ben looked bright-eyed and eager.  
“Just wait,” said Ben, “I’m looking forward to this.”  
A golden portal appeared and Baladoon appeared within it.  
“One of you seeks my golden rod” Greg snickered nervously and Ben shushed him.  
Baladoon held out a golden locket. “Let him who seeks me wear this. Come to the temple of Kalabor. Find me there.”  
Ben took the locket and the portal closed, taking the enchanter with it.  
“What’s with the brother thing?” asked Britt  
“O, that’s another dungeon. Pretty cool one –you face him and his army then you defeat him ad just as you’re about to kill him Baladoon appears and spares his life and they fall into each other’s arms. You’d love it. Nothing to do with this.”  
Britt was looking sad.  
“What’s the matter?" asked Greg  
“I was just thinking how much I’d missed just doing quests and pets. I wish that the game was going on now more than ever .I want to do dungeons.” She swigged form the bottle of healing potion Ben had handed her.  
Baelin said “I like tanking .I am glad I left the village.’  
“Me too “ said Greg instantly and found that he meant it. Despite being cold and sick and scared it had been a great few days.  
They all looked at Ben  
“Well of course,” he said loftily, “I was a raider and a dungeoneer”  
“Who got kicked from his team” Britt reminded him.  
“Well, yes, he acknowledged. “And yes” he looked slightly shamefaced “I think I’m sorry about that now. I think I would have made a good raid leader after a while if I’d kept trying.” He looked uncharacteristically uncertain and Baelin patted him  
“You are a good leader, Ben,” the big man affirmed.  
“Good” said Ben. “Because it’s time to kick your arses to the next level. We’re going to Kalabor and that’s the elite level only area. Every mob we meet will be like that lot.”  
Ugh, great, thought Greg but was surprised to find that his heart wasn’t totally in the protest. In fact he felt curious and excited.  
“On to Kalabor, “he said, and the others echoed it.  
Far away from the adventurers, Baladoon looked into his smoky screen and watched them hugging.  
"Yes," he said to himself, "on to Kalabor."


	5. ONWARDS THROUGH DRAGONS AND STUFF

ONWARDS THROUGH DRAGONS AND STUFF  
“We need a map.,” said Britt. They were standing on the road outside the city.  
Ben gestured irritably. “I told you, the minimap doesn’t work.’  
“What about your mounts?” asked Greg suddenly. “You said you had a big collection, Britt. Do you have the tinker’s caravan that sells you all the stuff for professions? I’ve seen players bring that out in Honey wood.”  
“I never had that much gold,” said Britt. “And these sorts of mounts are for wankers who like to show off that they do have the gold.”  
“I’ve got one.,” said Ben stiffly. “What do you want it for?” He clicked his fingers and a brightly coloured caravan appeared .It had yellow sides with red decorated fretwork along the green roof and red shutters on the green windows.  
One side had a big green shutter, which dropped down revealing a shop like interior.  
“Can you get some pen and ink like the enchanters use for the spells that they sell to other players?” asked Greg.  
“Sure,” said Ben, puzzled, and clicked his fingers. A scroll of parchment appeared along with an inkwell and a quill.  
“Can you use the quill to draw us a map from memory?”  
“O good thinking Greg ‘said Britt happily and Greg’s heart lifted a fraction. He had been feeling a bit like a passenger recently. Britt and Ben knew so much and Baelin had become practically irreplaceable but apart form shouting a few spells and making the odd suggestion, Greg didn’t feel he had a real role.  
Ben and Britt started squabbling almost immediately, disagreeing on some of the minor details such as the placement of the villages they had to travel through.  
“You had better do as much as you can of Skycraft “Greg told them “there’s no telling if we’ll get the caravan back again. Remember what happened to the Ben’s horse. This might be the only chance you have to make that map.’  
“What do we do while they do that, Greg?” Baelin asked him and Greg looked at him in surprise.it was the first time that Baelin had shown any real interest or any initiative apart from the instinctive reaction to protect Britt which had propelled him to his role as a tank.  
“Well, umm” Greg said .He wasn’t used to his advice being sought. “Why don’t we get stuff from the caravan that we might need? Some food for now and maybe a couple of blankets.” Baelin nodded eagerly.  
“Maybe we should each have a copy of the map.” Greg decided. “In case Ben decides to shoot off and leave us again. How do you feel about copying it?’  
Baelin looked doubtful but said he would try. Greg showed him how to get the pen and the ink and all the other supplies and they decided between them to carry some of the food wrapped in a cloth in case the bag function glitched. Britt and Ben had stopped arguing and had become engrossed in their task.  
“Look “said Britt proudly and displayed the finished result. Greg had to admit that they had done a good job. Britt had clearly done the bottom half of the map, which was in black ink. There was Honeywood and Darkwood in the left hand lower corner, leading to the city. Beyond that were wastelands marked with rather clever little sketches of dragons and basilisks on either side of a twisting road that led to the castle of Kalabor. At the same latitude but on the opposite side of the map was the Temple of Lights and from that led a road inked in red and obviously drawn by Ben, leading to the sunken fortress of Karteen.  
Greg was fascinated to see Skycraft depicted as a whole.  
It was shaped like a fat letter “S” with a bulge in the middle where Kalabor and the Temple of Light sat opposite each other. They both had roads leading through several zones to the city of Gerdorm and the opposing faction’s sunken fortress of Karteen .The zones they had come through with the villages of Temple wood, Darkwood and Honeywood were mirrored by zones and hamlets in the enemy lands. On both ends of the map, protected by a ring of mountains and, as Greg knew, by elite 110 NPCs, sat the starter zones, where players could play to level 20 without the fear of being ambushed and ganked by opposing players. He also knew that the narrow pass beyond the starter zone that led to Honeywood was often camped by opposing players who would take pleasure in mowing down the beginners who ventured beyond into the wider world of Skycraft. Of course the other starting zone was just as likely to be camped by the alliance.  
“This..this is good,” Baelin said, staring at the map. He looked a bit sad.  
“What’s the matter, Baelin?” asked Britt who was becoming, Greg thought, unduly sensitive to the burly NPC’s moods.  
“I have never been to these places ‘ said Baelin. “Just to Honeywood. Now I want to go to them”  
Britt hugged him.  
“You still have time to see things,” she assured him and her smile took in Greg as well. “We all do – I haven’t been to any of the contested zones myself. I don’t like player versus player conflict. Or any conflict really.”  
“What’s a contested zone?” asked Greg worriedly.  
“It means it doesn’t belong to either faction and they both have quests there, so you can run across enemy all the time “said Ben .He seemed unconcerned. The others all looked anxious.  
Ben looked at them and sighed. “Honestly, how bad do you think it can be? We haven’t seen any other alliance players and it’s unlikely that there will be any more of the Imperium faction than there are alliance in the game at the moment .If there are any, they are probably trying to finish quests them selves before the game goes off line and wont be bothered with us.”  
Greg was unconvinced. His limited experience of Imperials was that they liked running around shoving swords in harmless NPCs. It had possibly given him a jaundiced view of the Imperium but he thought that a group of disgruntled players might as easily spend the last few days of the game killing everything in sight as playing out a final quest line.  
Baelin was still looking distressed. “Will they try to hurt Britt?” he fretted.  
Britt patted him. “Don’t worry Baelin. I’ll be just fine. He really is very sweet,” she added to the group generally.  
“Yeh “ grunted Ben. “It just chokes me up. Can we get a move on now?” he clicked his fingers and looked both unsurprised and resigned when the caravan remained firmly in place.  
“Preferably before something vital like the sun stops working” he said tartly  
Baelin cast a terrified look at the sky and Britt shooshed him gently.  
“Why are things not working?” he asked her plaintively  
She lifted her shoulders. “I really don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, in the end it’s a business .If they cant make money they wont continue it .So either it was more expensive to make, and I guess that includes spending money on lawsuits if another developer said they had the rights to make the game, or they didn’t make enough money from it. People pay to play the game and they pay for things like mounts and pets sometimes too.”  
“Maybe the government got fed up with subsidizing it,” said Ben  
‘The government?” asked Greg hesitantly. “You mean like the Governor of Gerdorm?”  
Ben glanced at him briefly.  
“Yeh like him only real .In the real world “he clarified.  
Greg felt himself contract inside.  
On some deep level, he knew that he was part of a game. He also knew that knowing is what set him apart from the other NPCs.it didn’t make him go through his scripted motions any less repetitively than them. In fact, he did it contentedly for the most part. Giving the same quests day after day to the new players walking from the spawning grounds filled him with quiet pride. This was his world.it was orderly and organised and predictable. Even the deaths from being stabbed or disembowelled by enemy players on any given day were to be expected as was the occasional obscenity unleashed on him by players fed up with picking flowers or killing rats to grind reputation points. He knew that they would go back to the task so that they could go on t the city and buy the faction mount and so progress onwards through the game. It was all a repeating satisfying cycle, with holiday activities and server shutdowns factored into his existence with clockwork precision.  
So it wasn’t the little deaths he feared. It might be the final blackness of nonexistence, but he wasn’t even sure of that. He shrank at the mention of the other world, the one the players mentioned sometimes, usually dismissively, sometimes with loathing. Whatever they felt about it, they still used the phrase “real world “.  
Ben’s remark made him curious though.  
“The government pays for this game?”  
“Subsidises it.” confirmed Ben. “If you’re on government Benefits you can apply to have your game time paid for and get help buying the hardware. All you need is a report by a doctor or psychologist that it will help your mental health. It’s easy; every no hoper in town gets one. The ones that don’t use it just sell it on. But most of them use it. Spend their life in the game and just come out to eat drink and pee. And they wouldn’t do that if there weren’t lockouts built in. Not that I can talk,” he added honestly.  
“But why do the government pay?” asked Greg, puzzled.  
“Keeps ‘em off the streets and out of the hospitals. Cheaper than drugs or booze and healthier. Look.” Ben ran forward and grabbed with both hands at a branch hanging over the path .He swung on it, let go and somersaulted gracefully before coming to a perfect stop.  
“If I tried that in real life, I’d fall over. But when I do it in the game it feels real. And it feeds back to my muscles and joints to keep them from wasting and freezing up. I still can’t actually do anything in real life. I’m still a klutz but here I’ve levelled my dexterity to plus 30%. And I don’t give a shit what I eat or drink or whether I go out .I don’t even care too much that I live in a caravan out the back of my mum’s place.”  
“Does your mum care?” asked Greg. The thought of a family gave him a curious pang. There were no mothers or children in Skycraft.  
“Probably not. She’s been stuck in Rainbow Town shooting down coloured clouds for at least six months anyway.”  
Baelin looked puzzled  
“It’s another game.” clarified Ben. “ You have to shoot clouds down before they hit the ground. People like my mum enjoy it.”  
“There are other games?” asked Greg slowly. “Other worlds like this?”  
“Hundreds,” affirmed Ben. “Well, at least ten that I can name. This was the original Augmented Virtual Reality game. The guy that invented it didn’t patent it properly and he disappeared a year or two after making it so now there’s a big company saying they own the concept and wanting to shut it down.Well, shut the servers down and rejig them . What they really want is the government contract.”  
“But they wont get it “said Britt confidently. “This game is subsidized for a reason and it’s not, despite what you might think Ben, to keep the unemployed busy and satisfied.’  
They all looked at her. “I know something about this,” she said defensively. “I am a therapist after all. And I know that the augmented VR was developed as a therapeutic tool.”  
“A what?” asked Baelin and Ben simultaneously.  
“It was designed to help people with psychological problems like phobias “ she said .The earliest versions were like spiders coming at you then getting cute and cuddly. Then it got more complex.” She blushed. “Someone suggested I try it because I find it hard to be assertive –they thought being a warrior would help my mindset.”  
“So you became a warrior who collects pets?” said Ben sardonically. “Well, that worked then.” Britt looked back witheringly. "And because half the government therapy jobs are either evaluating people who want to get into the game or helping the ones who get out to live in the real world. "she confessed "So you have to know how it works."  
“What about you, Ben?” asked Greg suddenly “Did you just start playing because it was subsidised or whatever you call it?”  
Ben had the grace to look a bit shamefaced.  
“Well I did know about the therapeutic bullshit.” He said, “ You could only get the government to pay if you had a problem the game would help. Oh, and you had to agree to be monitored. Visit to a shrink every month. It’s rubbish of course but hey, twenty-five bucks a month is twenty-five bucks a month. The visits were free too.”  
“So, what was your problem? “Asked Greg curiously. “Or the one you told the government about to get the money” he added hastily.  
“Anger management," said Ben shortly. I lost my last three jobs in customer service because I told some moron where he could shove his money.”  
“Well, I think we can safely say that was a failure as a therapeutic trial,” muttered Britt.  
“No “said Baelin decidedly and entirely unexpectedly. “Ben is a good leader. He has not been angry with us and we are learning.”  
Britt looked startled and even Ben was taken aback at this championship.  
“Umm, thanks mate ‘he said uncertainly. He looked at a loss then rallied and said sharply  
“Enough dallying people. We’ve got to get going, remember.” He avoided their eyes and put his head down. He strode off, muttering t himself. Greg thought he was blushing.  
“Wait up “ called Greg “where are we going exactly? I mean, to the castle but what’s the plan?’  
“Let’s get there first .we can talk about it then.”  
Baelin had managed to make one copy of the map and he and Greg shared it as Ben ad Britt strode ahead .It was, if anything, more neatly drawn than Britt’s and Ben’s version although the sketches of the local flora and fauna were missing. Greg preferred that. He didn’t like looking at pictures of dragons. He had never seen a dragon but he had heard them described. Giant flying lizards that could kill with claw swipes, tail sweeps, or fiery breaths didn’t sound like fun. There was an old legendary quest, he had heard, to tame a dragon and ride it back to Gerdorm where it would be awarded as a mount, but he had never heard of anyone completing it. He decided against asking Ben about it .The rogue might add the quest to his Skycraft bucket list.  
The first village on their road was marked on the map as Blackwood and next to it was a mountain with an arrow pointing to “Arrax’s lair”.  
The trees along the road became stunted and blackened with either no foliage or a charred leaf wavering in the hazy air. The road crunched finely under their feet, and flurries of fine ash rose from the pieces of cinder that their boots kicked aside. The air was cold but dry and smelled faintly of sulphur. Greg and Baelin hurried to Ben and Britt and pressed close.  
“I wouldn’t worry, “said Ben cheerfully. I remember this bit. You have to accept the quest to go to Arrax’s lair and bring her head back to the village headman. Village headman, geddit? . Yuk Yuk”. He sighed. “And we won’t be doing that .So you’re safe.’  
There was a whooshing noise and a long black shadow covered the ground ahead. Greg looked up and suddenly realised what it must be like to be a fish in Baelin’s pond, seeing a swimmer overhead. An enormous black and red-scaled belly sailed over them and the draught from the winds shook the few leaves from the surrounding trees and caused choking clouds of dust to rise up around them.  
“Where did it come from”: “Greg wondered aloud. “We should have been able to see it coming from miles off.”  
“Some dragons can make themselves invisible “said Ben, not entirely reassuringly. “I must admit I didn’t think this one got up and about much. Let’s press on to the village.”  
They could see the watchtower in the next village and the silence of the charred forest gave way to a klaxon’s shriek. There were NPCs running back and forth outside the village’s gates in a no doubt pre-ordained but artfully panicky fashion. The village sat in the shelter of a large, rather lonely cone shaped mountain. The blackened mountain had a single red road curling round and round it, all the way to the top. The summit of the mountain glowed red and belched smoke and ashes at regular sixty second intervals.  
“Ah “said Ben “it’s all coming back now. Hmmm, this could be trickier than I thought.” He avoided Britt’s glare.  
The village had a palisade of sharpened spikes around it and a watchtower at each corner of the square they formed.  
The three or four milling NPCs at the gate were beginning to close it shut as the party arrived. One turned around and they saw the glowing yellow question mark above his head.  
“Greetings adventurer” he began  
“SKIP “said Ben and clicked. “Let’s go on”  
“Hey!” said Greg indignantly. “The rest of us may have wanted to hear that.”  
“Ill save you the effort ‘Ben said wearily “greetings blah blah blah dragon blah blah blah see our headman for details. So that’s where we are going.”  
“Still wanted to hear it “muttered Greg rebelliously as he trailed behind.  
The headman was standing on the steps of the only substantial building in the village. Greg was mildly jealous .Why did he get a job in a town that didn’t have either a tavern or a town hall, he wondered resentfully. The headman NPC even had a red cape and a golden chain around his neck with a medallion that read “Mayor”. He also had a question mark above his head, signifying that he was the end of the quest given out by the gatekeeper.  
Ben clicked again. And then again as the exclamation mark of the quest marker appeared.  
“Greetings adventurer .Our town is somewhat troubled by the large reptile that you may have glimpsed on your way into our town. We would be very grateful if you could see your way clear to removing this impediment to our town’s commercial endeavours. I would suggest a party of at least three people in order to expedite the success of your mission.”  
The NPC stopped and beamed at them.  
“Now look what happens when I refuse the quest “said Ben. He clicked.  
The smile left the Mayors face and he frowned.  
“It is your unquestioned right to refuse us your aid, adventurer. However should this be your decision you must return the way you came .For the beast’s lair lies between us and the castle of Kalabor and you may not pass beyond here while she lives. Hard cheese sucker “he added and beamed again.  
“I thought you said we didn’t have to worry?” sputtered Greg  
“Yeh, about that.” said Ben.” I honestly forgot this bit. Probably because I didn’t mind killing the dragon. So..who’s up for killing a dragon?”  
Greg threw his hands up in the air. Britt just shrugged. Baelin looked both excited and wary.  
“Are dragons bad?” he asked .He looked at Britt. “I think so “she said. “I mean, usually, yes. They fly around burning crops and killing people.”  
“Why don’t you ask the dragon when we see it?” suggested Ben snidely “In the meantime let’s get going.”  
The mayor was still beaming at them as they left.  
The dragon’s lair was a cave halfway up the mountain. Faint smoke eddied from the entrance. As they drew nearer they heard a faint snoring.  
“My feet are killing me,” said Ben. "Why can’t they make these paths out of something sensible like boardwalk? These cinders twist your ankles something shocking.” He stopped and listened. “Good, at least if it’s asleep we can decapitate it without a fight.”  
Baelin looked disapproving.  
“We must be fair ‘he said severely.  
“Speak for yourself, “said Ben. "If it’s a choice between fair and successful I know where my money goes.”  
Greg could see that neither Baelin nor Britt approved of this attitude and he tried hard to agree with them, but really, he saw Ben’s logic.  
Ben looked at Baelin and Britt.  
“Oh all RIGHT. If you must do it traditionally, call him out. Make sure once the fight starts, Baelin, to turn him away from us. We need to be at the side. Both the front and the back are dangerous because of the tail sweeps. Otherwise just tank and spank. Everyone got it?’  
“Got it”  
“Got it”  
“Got it”  
“Right,” said Ben “let’s kill ourselves a dragon.”  
The snoring was so loud at the mouth of the cave that the ground beneath them seemed to tremble. The sulphurous smell became stronger along with the scent of fetid meat.  
Greg gagged. “Is that his breath? “  
“They probably don’t make toothbrushes in that size “ said Britt absently. She was watching Baelin who was creeping forward, stooping slightly and gesturing to the others to stay back. Greg noticed that he had yet to draw his sword.  
“Dragon!” Baelin’s voice, clear and surprisingly commanding, echoed down the path.  
There was a snorting and a billow of the sulphurous halitosis. They were standing well back, which was just as well because the creature that emerged from the cave was a good twenty metres long.  
It must have been really high up when it passed overhead thought Greg dazedly. It didn’t look that big then.  
The dragon’s head was black, but the ridges of its brow and its horns were etched in scarlet and between several rows of sharp teeth they could see a shockingly scarlet tongue flicking rapidly back and forth.  
“Who dares disturb me bellowed the dragon .It sounded either weary or plain fed up.  
“We do “said Baelin firmly “we are a group of adventurers .We want you to let us pass through.”  
“Wait, wha…” Ben sputtered. “That’s not the way it goes.”  
The dragon exhaled again.  
“Why should I do that?”  
“Because otherwise we will have to fight you,” said Baelin simply  
“That’s better “ approved Ben. Then he groaned as Baelin added  
“We don’t really want to fight .I’m sure you have better things to do, too.”  
“Really?” asked the dragon sarcastically. “Such as?’  
“I don’t know and I don’t care!” snapped Ben. ”Whatever it is dragons do when they’re not terrorizing the local village. Sleep? Hunt wild game? You tell us. Just let’s get this over with.”  
He had struck a nerve.  
“The local village? That’s rich!” yelled the dragon. They’re the ones who keep sending so called heroes up here to take my heart. You do know about the dragon’s heart jewel don’t you? Worth a fortune and they come up here after the adventurers have gone and given them my useless head and grab it. I know all about THEM. All I want is to be left alone and try to get this maiden out of my teeth.”  
“Is that why your breath so bad?” asked Greg, interested despite himself.  
“I’ll say, “ said the dragon gloomily. It lay down with it’s front legs stretched out like a cat and folded its wings over its back .It was clearly ready for a conversation “The original quest line had me ravishing and eating a local maiden but the censors over ruled it. For some reason they left the bad breath in the quest description and it’s driving me crazy. At least it’s made me realise my life wasn’t so bad after all.”  
“Your life?” said Greg sharply. “But you’re an NPC not a player.”  
The dragon looked a bit shifty, half closing its great eyes and sliding the pupils sideways. It hung its head a little.  
“Not supposed to talk about it “he said. He shrugged, sending little splinters of ash and charcoal showing down on them from the layer coating his wings. Baelin sneezed.The dragon went on.  
"But you can organise to play as your favourite in game monster or NPC for a day or two as long as you stick to the dialogue. If you don’t and someone screenshots it they ban you and sue you, I think.” said the dragon.” I realise I’m not sticking to it,” he added hastily “But I missed getting out at the last shutdown. It’s really boring doing the same thing over and over again and in any case no one’s been by in days.’  
“The game is breaking down “said Britt. “Don’t worry, it will finish soon.”  
“And doing the same thing day after day isn’t so bad is it Baelin? Said Greg defensively. “We quite enjoy it.”  
“Oh did you do it too?” asked the dragon. “How long have you been at it?”  
“Seven years” said Greg shortly “And I AM an NPC”  
“Sure you are “ said the dragon .His eyes opened wide, displaying slit like pupils in red irises. ”Holy cow, seven years. You must have amazing health insurance.”  
“I told you, I’m an NPC ‘said Greg hotly. He was interrupted by Baelin who said “no”.  
Greg spun around. “What do you mean, no? What do you know about it?”  
“I mean, no, it’s not good doing the same thing day after day for seven years.” said Baelin. Then he thought some more and asked the dragon “Are we really players?”  
The dragon shrugged again.  
“Well if it looks like a duck talks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”  
Baelin looked bewildered.  
Britt began, “He means…”  
“It’s not funny if you have to explain it,” said the dragon.  
“It’s not funny anyway ‘said Ben. “So how about it? You going to let us pass or do we kill you?” He waved his daggers invitingly. “Could get you that reset you missed.’  
“Nah, thanks bro. I think Ill just chill til the end of the game. Thanks though.’  
“Cheers” Ben made to move on but the dragon stopped him.  
“Hey, I don’t suppose any of you guys could try to pick these teeth for me?  
They looked at each other and Greg finally said reluctantly. “I suppose so. Where exactly is it?”  
“Back molar inside row I think, “said the dragon hopefully." The pallie’s sword would probably do it.”  
Greg unenthusiastically took Baelin’s sword and approached the dragon, which obligingly opened his mouth wide. Greg poked about gingerly and the dragon gave a sudden yelp and belched out a fiery cone. Luckily Greg was standing to one side and the others were well away. “You might have warned me!” said Greg indignantly.  
“Sorry, dude,” said the dragon apologetically. He belched again and said happily. “I think you got it”  
They looked at Baelin’s sword, which had speared a piece of meat so putrid that the smell overpowered even the sulphur. Pieces of cloth and hair were entwined with rotting strands of flesh.  
The dragon looked at it. ”Wow, they really made that authentic. Thanks again. Anything I can do for you, just ask. I don’t suppose any of you are from Auckland?”  
“Yes, in fact ‘said Ben .At the same time Britt said “Yes”  
The dragon looked from one to the other.  
“That’s a coincidence. I mean, I know the game company is based there, but it’s a pretty small city considering the game had 2 million users on 100 servers at one point.  
“This is the vanilla server though “said Ben “The only one going for seven years. And it ‘s almost all oceanic’  
The dragon raised its wings to shrug this time “Whatever. I'm from Auckland too .I run an electronics and game shop. Funtech. You should look me up. I’d totally give you a discount.”  
“Funtech?” Ben looked up suddenly. “I got fired from there two years ago”  
“Ben?"  
”Bjetman. You bastard.”  
“Hey no hard feelings man. After all, you did slam a customer’s laptop on the ground.”  
“He was trying to get a refund after he spilled a bottle of beer into it. I expected some back up from my boss about that. But no, the customer is always right apparently, even when he’s wrong.”  
“Hey, you finally got it. Pity you didn’t see that when you had a job. You might still have one.”  
“Yeh? Well, I’m not surprised you chose a dragon. Miserable bastards who only care about money. Typecasting if you ask me.”  
Britt was frowning and trying to follow the conversation .Her face cleared.  
“Oh, you know each other?”  
The dragon and Ben were yelling now, each trying to give their version of their parting encounter to Britt. She was making shushing gestures to both of them .The shouting match only ended when the dragon in his excitement started belching flames again. He stopped abruptly and waved them along.  
“ Yeh, sorry about that .I take my business seriously. You have to go through the cave,” he added quickly, seeing Ben’s mouth opening again. “You better get going. It’ll be night soon and that’s when the bats come out of Transvaal castle on the other side of the mountain. They have a poisonous bite.”  
“I know that “muttered Ben. I’ve been here before.’  
Britt pushed him along.  
“He’s only trying to help, Ben “ she said. "You go first with Greg if you know the way. I’ll follow with Baelin.”  
He nodded reluctantly “It’s a set of stairs down the other side” he said .Ill see you at the top. “We should stop there and regroup .We won’t see much til then. O.K?” Britt nodded and Greg said “O.K”. Baelin was silent.  
The cave was basically a large sand pit, which the dragon had kept relatively clean. To Ben’s disappointment there was no treasure on view although the others were glad of it. They had no wish to see another fight between Ben and Arrax/Bjetman. There was a narrow dark fissure at the other end, which widened into a passageway after they squeezed through. It was dark ad unpleasantly moist and Britt asked them all to hold hands.  
The passageway ended in another cave, this one with red dirt on the floor and with yellow and red handprints all around the pale walls.  
They were standing at the top of a flight of red stone steps, which widened as they went down, giving the impression almost of a pyramid. The zone which stretched out before them was an artwork of golden rock formations and glowing red sands .A darker red road led from the bottom of the stairs through the paler plains to what Greg assumed was castle Transvaal .It was made of pinkish rock and looked like it had been melted in the golden sun. Instead of square battlements and rounded turrets it had craggy uneven spires and a smooth pink wall all around it. Dark shapes moved menacingly at the windows.  
“Can’t we go around it?” asked Greg nervously  
“Nope” said Ben .If we want to get into the temple of Kalaboor we need disguises from the castle here. We have to rescue some NPCs from there and then they help us steal clothes.”  
Greg looked disapproving. “That doesn’t seem nice. What do you think of that, Britt?”  
He turned around but Britt was occupied.  
She looked up and said “Guys .I think we have a problem.”  
As she stepped aside, they saw Baelin. The burly man was crouched in a foetal position and was rocking back and forth whimpering to himself.  
“He started muttering in the tunnel,” said Britt. “I held his hand and pulled him along but when we got out he dropped like a stone.”  
“What’s he doing? ”Asked Ben impatiently.  
They could here the words now. Baelin was crooning to himself over and over.  
“Who am I who am I who am I”  
“I think he’s having an existential crisis ‘said Britt helplessly.


	6. CASTLES AIN'T ALWAYS CASTLES

CASTLES AIN'T ALWAYS CASTLES  
They clustered around Baelin who was still moaning to himself.  
"We've overloaded him," said Britt.  
"How do you mean?" asked Ben  
"Well, think about it .Two days ago he was on a bridge throwing a fishing line off for the nth time. If he thought at all, he thought he was a fisherman and that all he had to do was fish, give people fishing training and sell them fishing stuff. He had like three lines to say. Then he found he could come adventuring with us and that he was a natural tank and that he has the soul of a paladin. So he's probably thinking- again, if he thinks at all- that he's a sort of NPC companion or guide. Now some stupid dragon has convinced him that there's a real person out there somewhere who has simply been playing him. Poor poppet. No wonder he's distressed."  
No one was wondering whether he was distressed, Greg noticed. It's not like his life as an NPC had been any more exciting than Baelin's. He hadn't asked to be taken on this adventure, he hadn't asked to be put in a dress and to be dragged off into a dungeon and be expected to zap evil, scantily clad purple women with a magical staff. The dragon had been talking mostly to him, too. He wondered what it was about Baelin that made other people want to help him and to look after him. It was obviously something that he, Greg, didn't have. Even Greg himself responded to the wretchedness on display. The big man had shown no physical fear and had tried to protect them all at every point along the way. Now he was undone by his own thoughts. Greg recognised that his own heart was melting at the sight.  
Ben seemed impervious to the pathos.  
"I don't care why he's like that, I'm not even interested enough in my own thought processes to witter on about them. The question is, how do we stop it?"  
"This sort of dissociative breakdown takes a lot off time and effort to reverse. You have to work back to isolate the cause and then address the issues. You can't just say to someone like this "Hey snap out of it!" people don't sort themselves out just because someone comes along and tells them to do it, you know." Britt was becoming heated. She was also quite beautiful in her passion and concern, Greg thought. Her hair was plastered to her face and her skin was pink with exertion and emotion. Her clothes were stained with charcoal and dust but she looked like a true warrior princess. No wonder Baelin was so smitten that all he thought about was protecting her, with no thought of reward.  
He stepped forward.  
"Actually I think that you can .At least temporarily until the time and the place are right." He knelt down by Baelin.  
"Baelin, snap out of it.it doesn't matter if we are real or not but we know that Britt is. She's been in this game for nearly two days. Her real body has been without food and water and sleep. We have to finish the game and get her out of here or the real Britt will die. The one in here, too. She needs you, mate. Get up."  
Greg looked up at Britt. "Sorry to put it that bluntly but I've been thinking about what Ben said at the beginning of all this. Remember? He couldn't log off to sleep. And then you were talking about safety in the game, needing breaks away to eat and drink. I'm thinking that means your real bodies are out there with no one looking after them. So you really are in danger."  
"Yeh, thanks for including me in there, man."Said Ben."Personally I don't give a damn if I wither away and die and I'm sure I heard Britt here say the same thing or something like it a while back. But by the same token if we are not eating or drinking in real life, we're not going to be able to think in a while, we'll be so sleep deprived and dehydrated. Soo …we'd better get a move on, eh?"  
Baelin had uncurled and was looking at Greg with fearful eyes. "Britt will die?"  
"If we don't help help her, yes. " Greg said firmly. "So get up and come with us."  
Britt made a small protesting noise but stopped when she saw that Baelin was getting slowly to his feet. There was a look of solid determination on his face.  
"I will protect her. I will help her," t he big man declared. His face shone with the zeal of a true believer. They really were made for each other thought Greg despairingly. He might as well give up. Then he remembered they were all going to die anyway. Which led back to his wondering why they were doing this at all.  
Ben had no such concerns.  
"Can we get on with it?" he asked impatiently. "We've got to get down to the castle before nightfall or all the bats start coming out to get us."  
Baelin nodded determinedly and shouldered his blade.  
"Let's go "he said. "We will finish this for Britt.  
"Don't worry about finishing it for me, will you?" muttered Ben. "Especially since it's my quest."  
"Greg very nearly said "I feel for you, man "but stopped himself in time.  
They walked down the steps and started plodding along the road. The dark shapes still moved at the windows in the pink candy coloured spires and towers. But no bats came at them. There was no moat and no drawbridge. The castle sat without any obvious defences apart from the high wall, which was simply formed from a jumble of pink buildings of various heights and styles merging together as though they had partially melted in the warmth of the desert sun.  
Double doors large enough to take a horse and cart were dotted at random intervals along the wall. None were open.  
"No guards," noted Ben.  
"So how do we get in?" asked Britt.  
"Well, to be perfectly honest I always bypassed this bit,"admitted Ben. "The big quests are all at Kalabor or at the temple of Light. The reason people stop off here is because if you aren't dressed as a local citizen you get attacked by marauding camel traders and slave dealers on your way through the desert. And this is where you get the clothes."  
"So?" asked Greg. "Why haven't you done it? I can't believe you can fight off a camel train," he said acidly.  
"No. I couldn't " agreed Ben .He saw them all looking at him and said with an exasperated sigh. "I'm a rogue remember? I can stay in shadow all the way."  
"There isn't any shadow," pointed out Baelin.  
"Figure of speech mate. It's called shadow walking and it's rogue ability. It doesn't actually need shadow. Any more than Britt's whirlwind attack needs wind."  
"So all we have to do is walk in, rescue some people get some clothes and get out again?' asked Greg.  
"As far as I'm aware, that's all there is to it, yeh," said Ben, "Although I can understand you being a tad sceptical at this point."  
They were near the castle now. Both the dark pink clay road and the softer pink of the desert sand stopped abruptly at the walls. Greg knelt down to examine the point at which sand and building met and swept his fingers along the seam. He drew his hand away, puzzled, and looked up.  
"I think that the castle and the desert are made of the same stuff, " he said. "It's like a giant sandcastle that's turned to glass."  
Britt knelt down next to him and ran her hand over the wall. "It's smooth, "she marvelled. "Like plastic.'  
"What's a sandcastle?" asked Baelin.  
"A castle made of sand, moron,"said Ben, but he looked thoughtfully at Greg. "I wonder if there's an explanation or if the devs just plunked it here?"  
They walked silently around to one of the gates. It was simply a smooth archway carved into the wall. The depth of the archway leading into the castle grounds was eight or ten metres and there were windows set in the buildings that made up its sides. There were no gates and no guards to be seen.  
They passed into a giant courtyard, which was filled with a busy throng of people. Some were hauling water from a giant well in the centre of the plaza, others were trundling barrows of the pink sand, appearing from and disappearing into other archways leading off from the courtyard and still others were hauling buckets of sand and water up and down the faces of the enclosing buildings using primitive pulleys and scaffolding.  
Two things struck the adventuring party. The toiling workers were all clothed in tattered black robes, fluttering as in a non-existent wind. And they were silent. No one talked, no one sang, no one swore as they fell and banged their knees on the rose tinted bricks that formed the pavement or even grunted as they hauled the buckets of water over the rim of the pink stone well. . The faces that turned towards them were uncomprehending, pale copies of the races that inhabited all the zones of Skycraft, Allied and Imperium alike.  
"So, do you think they'll aggro?" asked Greg nervously. He could imagine them flocking at him in their tattered gowns and battering him down with their axes and picks. He imagined it would be a painful death. He'd only felt pain in the last few days. He'd decided he didn't like it.  
"One way to find out." said Ben .He walked up to a group of four workers who were tipping out barrow loads of sand and smoothing it down with shovels.  
"Hi, how's it going there? "He said heartily and high-fived one of them as it lifted its arm to grasp the barrow handles. It turned its head and looked at him expressionlessly.  
"Way to go, dickhead," said Britt with uncharacteristic brutality. "Why don't you just stab at them while you're at it."  
He shrugged and drew his daggers. "Well, O.K. If that's what you want."  
"No!" Baelin spoke severely. "We do not kill without reason."  
"Great .You know, the more self aware you are the more sanctimonious you become." Ben rolled his eyes at Baelin but he did sheath his daggers. "Let's look around. If those are the characters we're supposed to rescue we're in trouble. I mean, usually people have to want to be rescued. It's like being an alcoholic."  
"What is like being an alcoholic? "Asked Britt.  
"Being rescued. Like if you're an alcoholic you need to want to stop before you can stop. If you're a prisoner you need to want to be rescued before you can be rescued." Ben stopped and said. "That sounded a lot better in my head. But you get the idea."  
He added, "Also apparently they need to give us clothes. Or someone does. I don't know what they're wearing out in the desert this year, but I'm betting it's not used bin bags. There must be someone else around here who can help us"  
"What's an alcoholic?" asked Baelin.  
"What's a bin bag?" asked Greg.  
"Oh, for …let's just leave it." He strode off muttering quite audibly, "I need a drink".  
Most of the workers with barrows were passing through the archway to their left and Ben headed there, absentmindedly hip and shouldering a worker who reached the exit at the same time. The worker went sprawling silently and as silently picked himself up, righted his barrow and plodded on.  
The others followed Ben. Greg felt an unaccountable urge to apologise on Ben's behalf, but the other NPC just gazed at him mutely and turned away when he tried.  
The archway led to a closed street. On their left was one of the buildings that made up the city walls. On the other was a wall some ten metres high set with a series of grills halfway up. The grills were made of the same pink stone, carved and pierced into complex geometric patterns .A cool breeze carrying the perfumed smells of peaches and roses wafted through. There were trills of laughter and the sound of a stringed instrument being gently strummed.  
Greg plucked at Ben's shoulder and the rogue half turned around.  
"Shouldn't we be looking over there?" asked Greg. "Whoever's in there sounds more normal.  
Ben grunted. "Maybe." He kept moving, gesturing the others to follow. The sand gritted underneath their feet and swirled in little eddies.  
The smells from behind the wall became more appetizing. Baking bread, cinnamon and coffee scents tickled their senses. Greg inhaled deeply, aware of the pleasure he felt in the unfamiliar but delicious aromas. The songs and laughter became more frenetic as the travellers stepped up their pace.  
The walled pathway turned sharply to the right and now there were walls on either side. Some fifteen metres along there were two doorways, one to the right and one to the left. From behind the doorway to the right came laughter and music. The double doors to the left were ajar. Trails of sand were heaped against the doors effectively preventing their closure. A worker with an empty barrow came out of the gap and trundled away in the direction of the central courtyard.  
"Looks like this is it," said Ben.He made a sweeping gesture with his hand to Britt.  
"After you "he said. "And this time I'd keep your sword arm free."  
Inside there was another courtyard. Workers were dumping the pink sand in piles in the centre. Seated on a high stool behind the pile was an old man, dressed in a white robe and with a turban on his head .He was playing a long narrow instrument that flared at the end .The pile of sand was rising in a sinuous coil, writhing and forming under the influence of whatever the old man was playing. There was no sound coming from his flute but there was clearly a rhythm to the movement of the swirling mass. More and more sand joined the structure that was being created. The-blurred outlines began hardening and smoothing out and they could see the shape of a fountain. There was a statue of a woman in the centre, holding a bowl. From the tops of the wall the sand coalesced into a funnel of pink glass, which poured water into her bowl and started filling the enormous basin the statue was standing in.  
The old man nodded with satisfaction and looked up cheerfully at the group.  
"I like to do something artistic now and then "he said. "There are only so many things you can do with walls and windows."  
"You built all of this?" asked Greg.  
"With some help "admitted the old man modestly. "The sand has to be in situ so to speak. It takes too much magical energy to move it from the desert. That's why I have my helpers." He gestured vaguely to the workers who were sweeping the grit from around the fountain.  
Greg felt cold. "The people in the black clothes?" he asked. "But how do you..where do they..?"  
Ben interrupted. "Are there any other people here?" he asked brusquely. "We need to talk to them about borrowing some clothes.'  
"I am afraid there is only me and my daughters," said the old man .He paused. "They are very lonely. And very beautiful." He looked at them slyly.  
Britt made a face and gestured impatiently.  
"That's nice. But do they have any spare clothes?  
"He looked slightly taken aback at that. "Well," he said, "I'm sure you can ask them .In fact, I would not be at all surprised"  
He waved his pipe at them "just tell them I, Malagos the Enchanter sent you to them. They will know what to do"  
"Your daughters call you Malagos the Enchanter?" asked Britt sceptically. Daddy a bit informal is it?"  
Greg tugged her away.  
"Come on, Britt. I want to meet them."  
"I'll bet, " she said sourly but she sheathed her sword, which had been at the ready position when they entered the yard.  
"Oo, "said Ben jovially " We haven’t even seen them and who's jealous already?"  
"Shut up Ben unless you want to eat sand"  
They walked or in Britt's case stomped back to the passage and Baelin pushed open the other door.  
Inside the second, huge, courtyard, the colour scheme abruptly changed from harsh pinks to soft greens and blue. Trees grew amid lush shrubs, flowers rioted in beds and hanging baskets and fountains and streams tinkled and gushed every which way. In the centre of the space was a square of manicured green lawn, spread with gaily coloured picnic cloths and sheltered with parasols and by the huge tees that drooped at each corner. Lounging on the rugs and cushions and swinging chairs were ten or twelve young women of all shapes, sizes and colour. They were wearing silken harem pants and bikini tops. Some had gauzy veils attached to tiny headpieces .All were chattering like magpies but fell silent as the party approached. Then the central young woman arose.  
"Welcome travellers," she cried, "to the castle of Malagos." She gestured imperiously and a servant -one of the silent bin bag wearers, Greg noted-appeared with a tray of iced fruit drinks. The girl took one and waved to them to do the same. Ben held out an arm.  
"I don’t think so "he said "One of my rules is don't eat at dodgy takeaways"  
The maiden looked puzzled but unconcerned.  
"As you wish,"she said. "Perhaps you would like a bath to wash off the sand and grit of the desert? We can offer baths of hot water with fragrant oils and soaps. Some of us are talented masseurs. You must be tired and tense after your journey. "She lowered her eyes demurely.  
Even Britt looked tempted. "I think I'd kill for a hot bath," she said, "I've got sand in places I don't even want to mention ". All of the others except Baelin nodded eagerly.  
Baelin looked disconcerted.  
"What is a bath?" he asked.  
They all started to explain at once and while they did, they were chivvied along one of the garden paths and into a small hut that mysteriously appeared. Inside the hut was a tub of hot water, large enough for them to swim a lap in and redolent of roses and lavender. Petals floated on its milky surface. Impassive black-garbed attendants held piles of soft rose coloured towels. A silvered mirror lay on one side.  
Ben seemed to have lost all his suspicions. He disrobed with an unseemly haste and dove into the water, sending a tsunami of scented water over the edge. Britt was not far behind. Greg started to take his vest off uncertainly, averting his eyes from the tub as Britt plunged in.  
"Away!'  
Greg looked behind him and saw Baelin shoo-ing away one of the young women from the pile of clothes and weapons that Britt and Ben had left behind.  
"But they need washing," she was pleading. "We can give you clothes to wear until they are dry."  
"Clothes like that?" Baelin gestured contemptuously towards one of the mute followers who were holding piles of black garments.  
"They are good clean clothes," she said,"Allow us to serve you?"  
He looked impassively at her. "No"  
"My lord?'  
Suddenly Greg understood.  
"It's the clothes, isn't it?" he said and as she turned to him he grabbed a robe from the arms of the attendant and threw it over the girl.  
She screamed and writhed. Black smoke billowed from the robes and mingled with the dust to form a dirty pink smudge that wrapped around her like chains. She struggled wildly, her screams becoming softer and softer until eventually her mouth moved but no sound came out. The agonised face stilled and became eerily calm. The remnants of her harem outfit fell to the floor and the now familiar fluttering and torn black robes covered her body. She turned her impassive face towards them and stood silently.  
The other maidens screeched and ran at them. Hands curled into claws and teeth bared. . Greg snatched up his staff and took up a defensive pose, knocking one of them aside into Baelin. There was a swirling of black and pink dust motes and the girls morphed into a swarm of bats .The bats were large and black but with pink veins across their wings and with pink talons and teeth and tongues. The creatures screeched and clawed as they flew and swerved and winged around the steaming room.  
"OUT of the bath!"Greg ordered Britt and Ben urgently. "Get back into your clothes and get your weapons."  
They scrambled to obey. Greg continued knocking the bats that were flying at him into Baelin, who showed no qualms about dispatching them. Ben got to the clothing and reached for his daggers.  
"Clothes first," said Greg, deftly smacking another attacker across the room. "They protect us."  
Ben nodded and pulled his clothes towards him. Britt followed suit.  
This time Greg turned aside for another reason. He was looking at the pile of clothes and he was full of questions. He could, if not understand, at least guess, why Baelin had reacted as he did .The protective instinct he had seemed to be truly instinctive. But how had he, Greg, known what to do? He didn't credit his own intelligence that much. And the girl? Surely an NPC would not have reacted that dramatically? Greg knew how quests like that worked. There was a holiday costume one in Honeywood, where players clicked piles of clothes and clicked to dress each other. This group weren't clicking on anything anymore. They were picking it up, using it, throwing it down. The NPCs were reacting in complicated and not entirely expected ways. Greg was willing to believe that Britt's interaction with the augmented reality was refining the game to an extraordinary point, but what of him? What of Baelin? Even, come to think of it, what of Ben, whose imagination and use of nuance was primitive to put it politely.  
Greg shook his head and turned back to the others.  
"If they take clothes and put enchanted ones on to turn people into servants, then there must be piles of clothes somewhere. Perhaps those are the clothes we need."  
They all turned to Ben, who shrugged.  
"Your guess is a s good as mine." he said. "Like I said, I skipped this bit."  
Britt buckled her sword sheath across her back.  
"We should find the sorcerer "she said. "He should be able to give us some answers."  
"You think?" asked Ben sarcastically"Being that it's his castle and all?"  
"Just because it's obvious doesn't mean it shouldn't be stated." Britt snapped. "We probably should have questioned him in the first place .If you'd listened to your brains instead of your dicks."  
The pile of dead bats in front of Baelin was three deep and Greg looked at it in distaste. He was relieved when the now familiar stirring and writhing of dust and solid matter began. The heap of corpses shifted into a much smaller collection of ash and pink sand.  
"Like a recycling plant" said Ben approvingly." No mess, no waste. They'll be the next lot of bath towels in no time"  
Britt snorted.  
"At least we know where the killer bats come from that guard the castle. Probably the night shift. Let's go, people."  
Baladoon had been watching at least part of the action through the mirror, averting his gaze at the more unseemly bits.  
"And so the story advances." He smiled gently and thought for a moment. A scented bath might be a good idea while he waited.  
The conjuror looked up as they entered his courtyard.  
"Oh dear," he said, "I had hoped that you would be bathed and settled by now."  
He reached out one hand for his flute but stopped as he felt the point of Britt's sword at his throat.  
"Move and you're dead," she said evenly. "Just tell us where the clothes are .We can find them ourselves. If we have to leave you a corpse, it will just take longer."  
"Now, now, young lady," he began.  
Britt moved closer into a thrusting stance and drew back her sword arm. Her other hand grabbed his throat.  
"Now listen here, you misogynistic little piece of shit," she hissed. "I've had it up to here with certain aspects of this game and you are one of them. I now want to finish this quest and go home. You are in the way. Answer now or lose that fat little turbaned head."  
The wizard's little eyes darted back and forth between the adventuring party, but all the faces he saw were hard and set. In Ben and Britt it was the face of someone who was feeling the heat and the sand and the insects and who just wanted to get home and have a bath. Greg didn't have a home but he had been looking forward to that bath and was fed up. Baelin seemed to be reaching the slow anger of the gentle man. His face was set like stone.  
"Just kill him "said Baelin. "He will not help and if we let him go he may have other tricks. We can find the clothes"  
Greg was startled.  
"Aren't you a paladin?" he asked "Shouldn't you be the one out of all of us to show mercy and kindness?"  
. Baelin turned from the conjurer to Greg and shrugged.  
"There are always exceptions" he said and winked.  
. Greg was even more startled.  
Malagos began to yammer and to protest. "I meant no harm," he said "I just love to build. I found the flute in a cave in the mountain and I found that I could build whatever I concentrated on "He coughed. "Within reason. I had to put the sand in piles big enough to make a house if I wanted a house, you see. I got better and better at it and build larger and more beautiful things. Then I needed help to build. More sand, more workers. The adventurers passing through seemed a good choice - I mean, if they had homes and families to go to what were they doing here? Then I needed guards and the bats from the mountains were willing to help. They liked being human by day and bats by night". He looked shifty. "Unfortunately they liked chasing down the ones that tried to get away, too." A pause. "Nothing to do with me of course." Another pause. "Sometimes they were a little enthusiastic and the results were …not pleasant."  
"Keep talking," said Britt grimly. "You're digging yourself a grave right there. "She relaxed her grip a little. "So, show us the way. Greg, grab the flute and don't let him near it."  
Still protesting, the podgy little man led them out of the courtyard and along the closed street to what appeared to be a dead end. Then they saw a trapdoor open and the flight of steps leading down.  
Britt prodded Malagos.  
"After you, sunshine "she said.  
Ben looked admiringly at her. "You're doing the badass thing really well, you know that?"  
She flashed a smile at him. "Yes, I do "she said. "Should have started a lot sooner."  
The stairs turned twice before opening up into a huge basement area. It looked like a supermarket with huge sets of shelves stretching out into the distance  
Ben whistled as he looked around. Shelf after shelf was stacked with brown cardboard boxes containing clothing and weapons, all neatly folded and labelled.  
"Wow," he said, "Some Dev really wanted to remind himself of his last job as a night filler at Woollies, eh?"  
Greg was examining one of the boxes and its label. "Party of 3, December 6th, year four," he read."Rogue, warrior, mage." He pulled a robe out of the box. "This is much fancier than mine." he said. "Look at the stats on the label. Plus 200 versatility. What's that?"  
"A stupid stat that's not used anymore "said Ben dismissively. "Ignore that box. What we're looking for is some clothes that will make us blend in with the locals as we go through the desert."  
"But are we?" asked Baelin unexpectedly. "We needed a disguise to stop the hunting bats from bringing us back to the castle, I don't think we need that anymore. Or we won't"  
They all turned and looked thoughtfully at Malagos.  
Ben broke the silence.  
"The bats that hunt "he said to the sorcerer." How does it work?"  
"Work?" asked the little man nervously. "I don't understand…ah ah ah ha."  
His pudgy frame jumped with each poke of Britt's sword.  
"Too polite." said Ben.  
He took out his rogue knives, wiped one lovingly with a piece of silk from a box labelled "Warlocks, miscellaneous" and slashed suddenly but precisely at Malagos's midriff. The scarlet cummerbund the sorcerer wore fell neatly in two, revealing rather more than Greg wanted to see of the round hairy little belly underneath.  
"Next one," said Ben lazily "draws blood. And each will be a little deeper."  
"The girls turn into bats at night on a signal." said Malagos sullenly. "They patrol around the castle for a kilometre or two out. If anyone tries to leave they drive him or her back. The prisoners get their bath - one way or another."  
"And the signal is?" asked Greg wearily .He already had a good idea what the signal was and it was confirmed by seeing Malagos's eyes jump to his flute. He suspected that the girls would also turn into bats when stressed as they had today but wasn't going to mention it. They had enough to worry about.  
"Can we break that flute?" he asked Baelin.Baelin shrugged, reached for the flute and twisted it into an unrecognizable shape. The engraved bronze veneer snapped apart revealing an inner tube of what looked like dragonshide. It dropped large unpleasant smelling flakes of skin as he turned it over. The carvings on the bronze tube writhed and then stilled.  
"Yes" said Baelin  
"Yuk" said Britt. "You sucked on that thing.'  
'O I dunno 'said Ben "I thought he was quite good." He looked at the others "It's a joke…she meant…"  
"Yeah, we know, " said Greg more wearily than before. He looked at Baelin. "So you think with no signal we can move across the desert safely?'  
Baelin shrugged again. "I am guessing so," he said.  
"YOU." Baelin looked with distaste at Malagos. "You will come with us, I think."  
The conjuror pleaded. "What use would I be without my instrument? If you are attacked I can do nothing. My wand is a basic issue, make mana buns for greedy players piece of wood."  
"You can die with us,"said Britt shortly, "and someone take his wand .He can have it back at the end of the journey."  
"We cross the desert as a group," Ben affirmed and the others nodded.  
Greg looked at Ben.  
"So, once we get to Kalabor you can find the great Baladoon, get your fishing rod and finish the game, yeh?"he asked.  
"Finish the game, yeh," said Ben .He looked and sounded tired. "Fishing rod or no fishing rod it's gone on long enough for me."  
"And me," said Britt.  
Greg thought about it. What were his choices? He couldn't go back to being a gormless NPC, pattering out his quests in a ten square metre plot. He didn’t even want to be a spell throwing mage in dungeons, even if the game went on .It might take him time to learn the game but he knew he would eventually tire of it .The best parts of this adventure were talking to the real people who played the game as players or pretended to be NPCs for a while but all that that had done was make him want be like them. He wanted to have another life outside and he knew he wouldn’t get it. But he couldn't settle for less.  
He looked at Baelin.  
"What do you think?"  
Baelin looked confused for a moment. Greg could almost see him thinking.  
"I am not sure,"he said slowly.  
"When I was a fisherman, I was happy .It was like a fog, a gentle fog. But the fog went away and I do not think it will be back. And I do not want to do it without my fog."  
He looked towards Britt.  
"I want to help people .I like being a paladin tank. I can stop people being hurt."  
Greg felt a tearing in his chest .He gasped and doubled over, dry retching. There was a sour smell in his nose and a burning in his throat. Waves of nausea rolled over him and red sparks coruscated around the edges of his vision. He was frightened but there was another emotion over riding even that. Greg searched for the words to describe what he felt .He recognised an enormous deep well of pity and love and that it was centred on Baelin but he had no idea why.  
Britt was bending over him, concerned.  
"You all right?"  
Greg stood up and shook his head. The sparks fizzed more faintly and subsided.  
"Yeah."he said uncertainly .He walked over to Baelin and touched him on the shoulder.  
"You know you can't save them all don't you mate. Here or out there" he said gently.  
Baelin stared at him.  
"That's right, "said Ben bracingly. "Words for a tank to live by. Remember the old saying. If the tank dies it's the healer's fault. If the healer dies, it's the tanks fault. And if the DPS die they have only themselves to blame."  
Britt raised an eyebrow."But they still blame the healer and the tank anyway?"  
"Of course"  
Greg felt relief at their banter .The curious moment of intense emotion had passed and he had no desire to explore it further.  
Britt prodded Malagos again.  
"Come on, sunshine. Time to get some UV rays."  
The conjuror had been sitting there making peculiar grunting noises and going very red in the face. He looked as though he were trying to have a difficult bowel action. He gazed at the party with an expression of annoyance.  
"See here " he said, "I didn't sign up for this. Was allowed to run my own little script like a minigame and people who defeated the dragon and accepted the challenge of coming here got to play it. Even if none of them made it through this part of the game and respawned on the other side of the map," he added as an afterthought. He grinned evilly then hastily changed track when he saw their faces.  
"The point is "he said, "I wan to log out. This bit doesn’t sound like fun so I wan to quit the game. But I can't"  
"Bloody hell," said Ben "Is there any one in this game who is actually just an NPC?"  
"Well, most of the bats weren’t," said Malagos helpfully. "But they weren’t always the same people .It was a pretty short term entertainment. The players who came here were players but when they became slaves they changed into NPCs I think when the players got bored and the players became something else somewhere else."  
"You THINK? "asked Britt. "It does make a difference you know you slimy little git. They could have been real people you had trapped here for months  
Not just a collection of random pixelated NPCs"  
"Standing right here" said Greg huffily.  
Britt stared."Who is?"  
"An NPC" Greg said haughtily. "I'm an NPC, remember?"  
Ben snorted. "Sure, just keep telling yourself that."  
He elaborated.  
"Look, I don't care what you've been doing in the last seven years but from the moment I met you, you haven’t acted like an NPC. And neither," he waved at Baelin, "has he. I know a fair bit about games and about this augmented reality stuff and it's not that good. It can make you see an NPC as a real person .You can touch them, hear them, even smell them if your brain is plastic enough. I think that's the word they use. You can even pretend to yourself that they are thinking and feeling. But You. I'm pretty sure that you DO think and feel. We've gone pretty off script here and unless the programmers have planned everything in advance that's happened to us I think I'm pretty safe in saying you're not a computer programme"  
Greg felt a wave of panic.  
"But what am I? I've been in this game for seven years. All I've ever done is stand at Honeywood and give out quests." He looked at Britt for reassurance as he began drowning in his own fear. His heart was racing, he felt slick with sweat and his throat rasped with his rapid breaths.  
Britt was nodding calmly.  
"I always knew you weren’t an NPC, Greg. You are too real, too warm, too sweet." She smiled at him and his heart lurched. "I didn’t want you to have a crisis like Baelin so I've been waiting for you to gradually realise it."  
She smiled at him and added gently. "I think you are a lost-in-the-gamer. It's a term they use for people who have chosen to live their lives fully in the game .So fully that they choose to suppress memories from their visits to the outside real world."  
"They spend their lives as NPCs? Not just the odd weekend like the dragon?" He was incredulous. "Why would they do that?'  
"Inability to cope with the real world mostly. Trauma, bad memories, ill health. They use hypnosis and bury their memories of outside. They still have to go outside, they just forget it. I bet as an NPC there are gaps you can't account for. Shutdowns for instance. Your brain probably supplied a scenario to account for the shutdowns."  
"The vats!" Greg was astounded. He explained the shutdown vats and Britt nodded sagely'  
"A good rebirth metaphor,"she said.  
Ben snorted again and even the conjuror rolled his eyes.  
"It all sounds like psychobabble to me 'the little man declared pugnaciously  
Britt rounded on him."Well, don’t get me started on your nubile young women who turn into creatures that hunt other men and whom you control with your…flute," she snapped. "I don’t know how that one got past Dr Morriss. I thought that Skycraft was his life's work and he made sure it stayed true to his ideals."  
"Probably why it's shutting down "said Ben moodily. "Can't compete with some of the stuff out there"  
"What stuff? "asked Greg with nervous curiosity. Hee wasn't sure he wanted to know.  
"You don't want to know," said Ben as if he had read Greg's mind. "Let's just say there are games out there you have to sell your soul to play." He elaborated. "Two hundred page contracts, psyche evaluations, voluntary restraining orders-that sort of thing".  
"Faust,"said Greg numbly  
"Exactly." Britt nodded. "Except they give their souls at the start not the end and they don’t get them back." She pursed her lips. "Dr Morris fought against it, of course, but it's mostly games from other countries and ours doesn’t let in the worst. It's a cheap way to keep certain elements under control. Let them play out their fantasies in a game and keep them under observation."  
Ben snorted. "Sure he fought it. He disappeared to some mountain retreat years ago. They probably paid him off."  
Britt rounded on him. "How dare you! Alan Morris is a great man .He didn’t just invent true augmented reality. He developed ways of using it .He retrained the brains of people with chronic pain. People with spinal cord injuries can walk and pee and have sex again because of the interfaces he developed with their prosthetics." She was nearly in tears. "It's not his fault it all fell to the lowest common denominator'  
"Well, he wasn't much of a genius if he couldn’t see that the first thing average Joe would do with a machine like that is hook it up and party like there's no tomorrow. And now the country is full of housing complexes where everyone sits or lies all day in their own little worlds. Including me," he added cheerfully.  
"That's not his fault," she shouted, "he invented it for good. The games, this game, were just a diversion and a relaxation, not a life .It was only meant to be full immersion for short periods for therapy."  
"Well he didn’t understand the human brain as much as you think he did then, "Ben shouted back, "or governments for that matter. You know in Australia they turn all the machines off on voting day? Guess who they all go out and vote for? The blokes who will let them get back in here soonest. Then they all go back to fantasy land in their crappy dole boxes and eat their crappy dole rations and they're all as happy as Larry. Good old Dr.Morris, eh?"  
They glared at each other.  
Greg shifted uncomfortably. He and Baelin exchanged glances.  
"Guys " said Greg "Don’t you think we should start moving? I mean, you said your bodies-our bodies- might not be getting food and water out there. We need to move. And," he added, "if I am a real person I'd be interested in getting back to my dole box and seeing what it's like before I die."  
They were still glaring at each other but they nodded  
. Britt patted him reassuringly.  
"As I said, Greg, my bet is that you've retreated into this game because of a trauma. I don’t think you'll find yourself in a dole box. But you might have to confront your traumas again"  
"Maybe he'll confront his traumas IN his dole box "said Ben sourly. "  
"Not all of you dont,"she muttered.  
"If I have to make this trip" said Malagos bad temperedly,"can we at least start? Maybe I can figure out a way to leave the game if it's getting this bad."  
The pink palace was crumbling around them, Greg noticed. He brushed against the wall next to him. Sand trickled through his fingers. The fountain in the middle of the courtyard had ceased to play water and the features of the nymph statues had become indistinct and pockmarked, like a candy cane that had been run under water.  
"Why were you here? "Greg asked the conjuror curiously "Did you intend to stay forever?'  
"He's probably not from a dole box "said Ben nastily. "It's the sort of part you get written for you. For a shedload of money. Saint Alan Morris not above pandering to the rich like everybody else, I bet."  
Seeing Britt about to expostulate Greg intervened.  
"Is that how it's done? They can add a character or a storyline and just add it in?"  
"Yeh 'said Ben "That's what they did every week during the shutdown. They patched stuff in. And searched out the codes the hackers put in to make the game play their way. Only difference between the Devs and the hackers is that the Devs got the licence and the money." He sounded bitter. Greg remembered the bans.  
"So what did you do to get banned on your other account?" he asked  
"Nothing much. Just tweaked my character a bit so he always won player vs. player fights. I hate losing, ok?"  
"So you'd cheat? "Britt curled her lip in disdain  
"You bet, princess."Ben was unapologetic."Winning's winning."  
"In answer to your question "Malagos addressed Greg with some dignity, "My marriage was less than happy. This seemed a harmless way of getting some..satisfaction. Not prurient" he eyed Britt malevolently "or disloyal. It became my favoured environment. I just started spending more and more time here. And yes" addressing Ben this time "I did pay a hefty amount and no, I'm not a poor man.it allowed my wife to live her own life without bothering me and it allowed me to have a life I could control. One where I didn’t wake up with dread and spend the day with a weight in my stomach I could do nothing about." He suddenly looked sad and lost. "I did have other characters but this,"he gestured to his rotund little body and bald bearded head, "this is essentially me. "The me I know and like." He went on "I do go out to do my work and earn the money to keep my wife off my back and to pay for all this but this is where I like to be."  
Baelin was staring fixedly at him  
"But this is not your real life? So what is the point of it'  
"Real life sucks "said Malagos curtly. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise  
Britt shook her head  
"This place is a therapist's nightmare. Or treasure trove. I'll think about that later"  
"This place is about to collapse "offered Baelin "I can hear it "


	7. DESERTS,PLAINS AND OTHER GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES

DESERTS, PLAINS AND OTHER GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES  
Greg looked up, startled. The creaks were becoming more frequent and more insistent. The sand was crumbling and trickling but as well, there were huge cracks appearing in the walls. There was an ominous grating noise from overhead and the roof bowed in.  
"We need to get out "he said urgently. "NOW."  
They ran out of the courtyard, through the corridor and into the first courtyard, which had now been abandoned by the black clad slaves. Greg wondered vaguely if they were in the cellars looking for their clothes. At least they were all indexed, he thought wildly. He looked around for the correct exit but Ben and Britt were ahead of him, shoving the enchanter through the arched doorway that led to the outside world. They tumbled as a group out of the entrance to the castle just as the edifice collapsed with a final screech.  
"What do you think will happen to those inside?" asked Baelin.  
Just like him, thought Greg crossly, to worry about a group of people, most of who had ignored him and a few of who had tried to kill him. What would it take for Baelin to exhibit a few normal human tendencies like selfishness, greed and general bloody-mindedness he wondered and he immediately felt ashamed.  
"I think it will depend on us finishing the game "said Ben unexpectedly "It might just reset when it degenerates completely, but my bet is that there's a safety switch to get out of game and I have my suspicions that the switch is that someone completes the game.'  
Britt was watching the pink cloud of sand settle.  
"Why do you think that?" she asked.  
"Think about it "Ben said, "How stupid is a quest for a super duper fishing rod? And no ones ever managed to get it? Yeh, right. I'm guessing that if we reach end game the whole thing will power down switch, off and release everybody who is in it."  
"And if it doesn't?" asked Greg with trepidation  
"Then we're all stuffed, "replied Ben cheerfully. "Look, I'm not clever like this Morris Bloke. But remember, he's not the one that writes the story lines and fleshes out the characters. He's probably got the imagination of a squid. It's the developers who do the stories - they have to know enough about the mechanics to get some tech guy to be able to write the codes, but they are the ones that make the game. And I know how their tiny little minds work. They work like mine. And if someone told me to put a safety switch in the game so that it can be turned off from inside I'd do something stupid like this."  
"Why not just turn it off? 'asked Malagos, interested in spite of himself.  
Ben shrugged  
""The interface with thousands of minds is too delicate "offered Britt "It has to be seen by the minds enmeshed in it as natural progression perhaps?"  
"But why us?" asked Baelin slowly."Why are we the ones shutting down the game?"  
"Haven’t figured that one out "said Ben "It might be that some idiot tries to complete it every month and until the game deteriorates to a certain point they fail. Maybe one of us is the fail safe. Maybe we 'll find out when we get out of here."  
"And maybe we won't get out of here "muttered Greg to himself as he trudged after the others. They were heading away from the castle. Greg could see the lonely spire of the dragon's lair getting smaller.  
There was an oasis in the middle of the desert, curiously devoid of poisonous scorpions, snakes or bandits. It had date palms dripping luscious fruits and a bubbling clear spring .Ben seemed in no hurry to proceed and they took their cue from him. Britt and Greg knelt by the pool and cupped their hands, scooping the water as it rushed to the surface and carrying it to their mouths. The cold water fizzed deliciously against their dry tongues and lips. They both closed their eyes in pleasure and opened them at the same time, looking at each other. Greg blushed and Britt laughed. They filled their water bottles in companionable silence and sat together under a tree, leaning back into the trunk and stretching out their legs. Their eyes closed and they drowsed comfortably together in the half shade.  
Greg woke with a start a few hours later. The sun was low in the sky and a red streak streamed from the direction he hazily assumed was the west. If he squinted he could see the darkened silhouettes of a dozen towers in the distance, towers that must have been camouflaged by the suns' bright light.  
Greg shook Ben and pointed.  
Ben was already looking. "Kalabor" he affirmed. "If we want to reach it we'll need to follow the path of the setting sun or we'll lose sight of it. It's designed to stay hidden except in the half light." He pursed his lips. "The temple of light is on the opposite side of the desert."  
"We're not going there?" asked Greg uncertainly.  
"Usually, if you defeat the bosses in the final dungeon Baladoon appears and transports you to the city of light for your reward," said Ben. "There's portal from there to all over Skycraft. To both the alliance and the Imperium zones. So you get to go straight back home. I'm guessing the fishing rod quest is in there too but I don’t know the details. My guess is that we finish the dungeon and there's an extra scene or an extra boss either there or at the city of light.' He squatted own in the sand and narrowed his eyes along the path of the sun's glare.  
"Should he be doing that?" Greg whispered to Britt ."Does the sun burn your eyes here?" It occurred to him that in all the hours he had spent at the doorway of his little hut in Honeywood, his skin had never reddened or his lips chapped. He ran his hand over his chin and was shocked to feel the rasp of stubble .He became acutely aware that he was sunburned and sweaty and that he smelt. He sniffed Britt cautiously.  
She moved away with a jump.  
What did you do that for "she hissed crossly.  
"I'm so sorry 'he stuttered, "I was just..you know..comparing odours"  
Britt opened her mouth again  
"A bit of shush if you don't mind," said Ben, "I'm trying to figure this out.  
"Figure what?" asked Baelin warily  
"The safe path, Dumbo." He sighed wearily." Look, this desert is shaped like a rugby pitch, right? Kalabor and the temple of light are at the goals, we've moved in across the midline from the touchline and we are now in the centre?"  
They all nodded obediently, even Malagos. Greg was wondered wildly why he actually understood the analogy. What was a rugby pitch? And yet there was a clear diagram in his mind.  
Ben sighed again.  
"Well, imagine it's a rugby pitch that's also a minefield. It's only safe to cross at the midline. Anywhere else you have to figure out where the mines are. The setting sun's the clue -see how it 's starting to light up the sand in places and it's dark in others? The light patches are safe. We have to get across while the sun is setting because then the map will be gone. So let's get cracking"  
Baelin spoke again. "So that is why we have waited here? Until the sun sets?  
Ben curled his lip. "Well it certainly wasn't so you princesses could loll about getting a suntan"  
Greg whispered to Britt "AM I getting a suntan?"  
"No" she said reassuringly. "You're just a bit red." She patted his cheek gently and his heart sped up.  
Baelin was frowning and Britt looked at him questioningly.  
"I am the tank," he said abruptly, "Why am I not making these decisions?"  
Ben laughed derisively."Wow, he really is evolving isn’t he?"  
"If you can call it that." Britt pursed her lips. She turned to Baelin and said gently.  
"We aren’t in a dungeon or in a fight. That's when we need the tank"  
"That's right, "Ben affirmed. "Tanks do tactics. They lead the charge. Whereas strategies - that's the raid leader. That can be anyone.  
Currently you?" asked Greg "  
"Unless you have a better idea "  
Greg opened his mouth but Britt dug him in the ribs. "Let him go, "she murmured. "It makes him feel better if her thinks he's in control  
"Why do you care?" Greg thought crossly but he stayed silent and started to move across the desert with the others.  
"Right, " said Ben "we move as a group. When we're on the move we'll only be able to see the next patch of light not beyond and we'll only have about 30 seconds to make the jump."  
Greg decided against asking what happened if they didn’t make it.  
"When I say "now" you all jump with me "said Ben. They all nodded again.  
"Ready check" called Ben "and they all called out "Ready "  
"NOW"  
Ben jumped and they followed. Greg landed awkwardly and just as he righted himself Ben yelled:"NOW" again. With each jump he panicked a little more and lagged a little more behind the others. He desperately fixed his eyes on Britt's boots and tried to leap as she leaped but by the tenth leap he felt totally out of synch and on the eleventh he stumbled, falling forward onto the sand.  
"Greg." Britt stepped back to reach out her arm .Her hand entwined with his and she gave an almighty heave, bringing him back onto the square with the others. The sand he had just vacated rolled and heaved and a worm with a gaping red maw filled with rows of tiny teeth erupted from the sand and snapped at his shoes as he jumped. Greg closed his eyes and, keeping tight hold of Britt's hand made the next jump and the next in time. Up and down they went, left and right, backwards and forwards until the world melted into a continual call of "Now- Now -Now ", the heat on his tenderised face and the glint of the sun through the red skin of his half closed eyelids. He was sweating, he was gritty, he was tired and he was still panicking but he kept moving. Twice he nearly fell. On the first occasion a pair of snakes reared up and struck at him, on the second the sand turned black with poisonous vapours steaming up towards him. Greg was too scared to even think. Britt's hand was a slippery, warm lifeline and he clung desperately to it.  
Ben stopped suddenly and they all piled on top of him. He detached himself from the tangle.  
"Made it "  
Greg looked back and his stomach lurched. The dappled desert had become a roiling mass of serpents, spiders, brambles and tar pits. His knees trembled and he felt sick but he managed to stay upright.  
"No going back that way eh?" said Ben with some satisfaction. "We either complete the dungeon and get sent to the temple of light or we die and respawn back at the starting zone. Then this lot doesn’t clear up until the next reset. Or" he added thoughtfully, "we just don’t respawn.'  
Brit shouldered her weapon and looked toward Kalabor. She stood astride, silhouetted against the setting sun with her tangled, greasy blonde hair wisping in the faint breeze. The legendary armour set was looking tarnished and shopsoiled Greg noted but the overall effect was magnificent. Then she turned and looked across at Baelin who was posed with equal magnificence on the other side of the path and Greg's heart sank. He felt ridiculous in his pink robe and pointy hat. The hat had at least survived the journey across the desert and stayed on his head. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. He pushed the hat irritably to one side but it righted itself immediately.  
"It's a bit squashed on top," said a voice helpfully and Greg looked down to see the conjuror pointing.  
"I know" Greg said with dignity .He was annoyed to see that Malagos's robes were clean and still sparkling faintly. Sand was being gently shaken from the top of his hat to his sandals and then piling neatly at his feet. He noticed Greg's stare and smiled smugly. "Sand repelling spell. A must in this environment. You should try one"  
They were standing on a path wide enough to take two people walking with linked arms .It was made of black glass, which dropped precipitously down one side. The other side was a golden fog that they couldn’t quite see through and in which they could see their own hazy reflections. There was a layer of golden sand on the top of the path and it was eddying and swirling and falling down the sides in a constant trickle. Greg couldn’t see how it was being replenished until he took a step forward and a geyser of hot sand erupted at his feet. He jumped back and nearly lost his balance. The cone of sand where the geyser had been flattened and swirled.  
He felt shakier than ever , his palms were sweating, his mouth dry and his heart was beating painfully .The voices started coming from farther away and his vision greyed out at the edges. Greg's stomach hurt and he fought for breath even as he realised he was panting quickly. His fingers began to tingle and his right hand spasmed. "I think I'm afraid of heights," he whispered to Britt and then his knees buckled beneath him and he swooned.  
Britt caught him and knelt down next to him. "Just take slow deep breaths, "she said softly in his ear. "All the way in. And hold. All the way out. And hold. It will pass. Remember that we are here for you. Remember that I need you, Greg, to get home." He nodded and automatically obeyed.  
Ben had been paying no attention .His was judging the distance along the path with narrowed eyes and counting under his breath.  
"This is going to get difficult "warned Ben and just as Greg opened his mouth to say sarcastically, "GET difficult?"Ben added "I'll lead .The geysers come every twenty paces from what I can see. We need to step in the same place each time or the eruptions will become too much to handle. Hold hands."  
Ben started walking sideways facing the golden-mirrored mist, planting one foot beside the other. He made a mini path in the sand that the others could follow. Every now and then a puff of sand would defiantly erupt between his steps but the hot geysers seemed quietened. Greg began to relax. He studiously avoided his own reflection .The sight of an exhausted dirty mage in torn robes sweating and chafing as it shambled along sideways was not going to help his confidence.  
Halfway along the bridge there was a gap in the mist where a silver chain hung like a bright necklace, stretching out into the distance. Greg realised with a start that it, too, was a bridge. A single silver chain above and a thicker one below .Ben turned his head towards Greg's image and saw him looking. The rogue grinned.  
"Short cut to the imperial lands" he said. "It's used for PVP invasions."  
Britt had noticed it too. "Hard to believe that some people want to kill opposing players so bad that they'll risk that" she remarked.  
"Is there honour in killing such?" asked Baelin. He seemed genuinely interested and spared a glance sideways at Ben's reflection.  
Ben grunted.  
"Only if the player is the same level or above." Ben said. "If they are lower you lose honour .The guilds…teams...with the highest honour scores win stuff at the end of each season. Usually mounts or pets or gear."  
Baelin nodded approvingly. "That seems just" he said gravely.  
Ben rolled his eyes and moved along.  
"I used to be in a guild," said Britt. She faltered slightly. "It belonged to my ex."  
"Ye, I think you told us" said Greg carefully. He wondered how upset she had been. "You remembered that I told you? That's sweet," said Britt.  
Greg kept his eyes downwards. How could he tell her that he remembered every word that she had ever uttered in his presence? He wondered if that sounded creepy and decided it did .He stayed silent.  
"What's so good about guilds?" sneered Ben. "They are usually run by some bozo who gets everyone to join then doesn’t actually get off his fat arse and organise anything. There's new guildies whining for gold and bags, ninjas stealing from the guild bank and usually some couple bonking in real life who take their drama and their breakup into the guild chat and the raid. Then they cause a wipe, one of us quits and the guild breaks up."  
"One of us?" said Greg sharply. "You too? Not just Britt?"  
Ben kept his head forward and his eyes fixed ahead." Yeh I had a thing with the main healer when I was raid leader. She wasn’t as good as the other healers but I gave her lead and yeh, I allocated her more than her share of loot. We met in real life, had a thing in real life and she moved in for a while. Biggest mistake ever. She was the girlfriend from hell. Never paid her share of the bills drank all my booze and screamed if I had mates over. I chucked her out and she got everyone to flame me and I eventually quit."  
"At least I had the relationship in real life first "muttered Britt.  
Ben sneered" Oh that makes you better does it princess?"  
"It sounds awful," said Greg hastily and Baelin said.  
"Yes. Does it matter where or when? What matters is that you hurt each other."  
Britt looked shamefaced. "Sorry".  
Baelin's expression softened. "No matter. We know you were hurt .We feel for you."  
She looked grateful but Greg was left wondering .Was that 'we" as in all of us or did Baelin think he was royalty. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought.  
Malagos chirped "I tried to join guilds all the time when I was a player but they always kicked me out. Much more fun to be an NPC. No sexual harassment reports."  
They continued their shuffle pausing only to make encouraging comments (Baelin) sarcastic answers to encouraging comments (Ben), general complaints (Malagos) or painful grunts (Greg). Britt was uncharacteristically silent. Greg's throat was dry, his eyes were sandy and his nose itched. Something had flown into his mouth during the trip over the desert. It was now trapped between his front teeth and his sandy fingernails had been unable to dig it out. He devoutly hoped that whatever it was hadn't been sentient.  
Ben stopped shuffling and they all cannoned into him. Malagos was at the end of the line and was still on the bridge .He teetered; Baelin grabbed him and hauled him over r to the widened area that they were now standing on. Britt looked faintly disappointed.  
"This is it," Ben announced,"it's the plateau in front of Kalabor. And that," he gestured at a crumbling archway of purple stone which stood in the middle of the plateau, "is supposed to be the portal to the start of the instance.Hmmmm.I guess we'll have to go in the old fashioned way "  
They looked around.  
Greg thought, well, clearly perspective and distance must be flexible in some parts of the game. There's no way we could have missed this even at a distance.  
They stood on a vast plain covered in black sparkling sand, which crunched satisfyingly where they stepped, leaving clear footprints of darker black. Greg thought about that and just shrugged. After all, why not.  
The plateau was fusiform in shape, with one narrowed end where they stood and the other some distance away.  
The City o f Kalaboor rose from the blackness. Tall spires and curved minarets alternated with squat pyramids and cubes. The buildings were black but highlighted with dark shining colours as if they had been crafted from a vast oil slick. Rainbows of blood red and deep purple, venomous green and nightmare blue played across the surfaces. The sky around was lavender with a single huge moon that was black with a white halo blazing around it.  
Greg looked back across the narrow shelf that had brought them here. He noticed for the first time that another shelf joined the plateau at the same point fanning out in a different direction. He calculated rapidly-at that angle it would be bisected by the silver bridge that Ben had said came from the Imperium.  
"Do the Imperials do their final dungeon here too?" he asked Ben .He tried not to squeak.  
"They do 'said an unfamiliar voice and the sand in front heaved.  
Four figures emerged from the swirling flakes of black glass.They wore hooded robes of scarlet and gold and their faces were in shadow. The central figure had 2 crossed golden krises across his back. The figure on his left carried a golden harp, the one on his right a golden bow and arrow and the final figure, standing slightly apart and behind, had a golden wand protruding from one sleeve.  
"Imperials" spat Ben. Beside him, Britt tensed slightly and crossed her right hand behind her neck to grasp her sword. Baelin stood silently, poised like a hawk on a clifftop. Malagos had moved aside as though to distance himself from their party.


	8. LEARNING TO PLAY WITH OTHERS IS IMPORTANT

LEARNING TO PLAY WITH OTHERS IS IMPORTANT  
Greg looked at the group and voiced the thought that was crowding his mind.  
"Why are you all so CLEAN?"  
The central figure made a startled gesture but Greg plunged on.  
"I mean look at us. We've just crossed a threatening forest full of spiders and wolves, a city with a dungeon a mountain with dragon bile all around it a castle built on sand and serviced by bats and a desert full of sand and monsters. We're hot, we're tired, we're dirty and we smell. None of us have had a bath in days." He looked balefully at the conjurer who shrank back. "Where did you lot get off looking like you've just been to the robe vendor? It isn't FAIR"  
The Imperial with the harp shrugged. He touched a string, which resonated softly, and he began to sing. His voice was deep and low .He sang of a village where their quest began, of a fortress city with a dungeon challenge, of a mountain where a fierce basilisk dwelt that must be slain to continue the journey onwards. His song became slow and sad as it described a castle of moss and rocks wherein dwelt a monstrous sorcerer whose servants turned into rats who carried off adventurers to be slaves in the mines below. The harp's strings throbbed with increasing urgency as it called forth a tale of a great battle to destroy the sorcerer and his castle.  
Then the adventurers faced with a swamp whose surface rippled in a changing pattern that had to be deciphered lest the group be lost in its murky depths. Finally a wall of glass surmounted by dripping weeds led to this field of obsidian glass that stood before the mighty fortress of Kalabor. Triumphant chimes declared their intention to make their names live forever by completing a legendary quest .  
The harp died away and Greg looked around. Britt was staring enthralled and Baelin was gazing off into the distance as though he were partaking in the song's deeds. Ben had a faraway look in his eye. Malagos was nervously picking at his fingernails.  
"Well that was very nice but if you've been through all that why aren't you dirty and smelly like us?" Greg persisted.  
The person with the wand spoke .It was a female voice, loud and a little harsh.  
"He must have an amulet of protection against your barding, Brian,"she said. "So don't waste your time. Let's just kill them" She pulled the wand from the cover of her sleeve.  
The central figure, the one with the swords, made a negating gesture towards her.  
"It's not that sort of competition Tina, "he said. "They've managed to get there too. Maybe we can pool resources.  
The archer spoke with a slight lisp  
"Ok by me mate. The sooner we get this over with the better. I haven’t had a smoke in three days. Here OR in real life "He pushed back his hood, revealing sparse ginger hair.  
The others pushed their hoods back too. The bard was tall and handsome, clean-shaven with eyelids that half drooped over his dark liquid eyes .His lips were twisted in a half smile.  
The gladiator was clearly in charge. He was short and muscular, his arms crisscrossed with scars and tattoos. His cherubic face was smiling at them but his eyes were cold.  
"So, convince us you can be helpful,"he said "or we might just kill you for fun"  
Ben was looking at the emblem that featured discreetly on each of their robes.it was a small golden dragon standing en passant, bearing a flaming banner which read "Incendere".  
"Incendere?" he read in awe."As in the premier Imperial guild? The one that won the world wide timed dungeon challenge?" He turned to explain to the others "It's a competition .The Devs make a new dungeon for each stage and the fastest groups go onto the final. Incendere won it three years running."  
"We did "affirmed the archer laconically.  
"You..It was actually YOU…"for once Ben seemed incoherent. He waved the others forward again. "This is the actual TEAM, guys. A gladiator a ranger a bard and an exemplar.  
"An exemplar? "Greg was confused.  
"It's a caster ,an illusionist. They can call mists so you can't see ,charms that bind you in place or make you run around confused , and the top ones have a spell that makes you attack your own team members. Like the bards can but without all that annoying music."  
The bard looked hurt but Ben went on "They're called exemplars because they're the imperial equivalent to the paladin - force of good not evil etc."Ben looked hard at the girl with the wand. "So if she's an exemplar she can ask the others to kill us but she cant do it herself unless we attack first."He smirked.  
The gladiator made a short irritable gesture.  
"It wouldn’t take all four of us to take you lot down." In a single fluid movement he uncrossed his krises. The wavy golden blades glowed with liquid fire.  
"Wow," said Ben,"nice." Britt glared at him.  
"Let's not be hasty "said the bard and touched his harp again. "We might not be friends but it might be easier for us all if we could work without fear of attacks. " His speaking voice was as mesmerising as his singing. It was lukewarm chocolate suffused with gold. Britt swooned slightly.  
"Shove it Brian," said the exemplar rudely. She touched the amulet she wore around her neck and the bard subsided, muted by its power.  
Greg looked at the caster again. She was tall and beautiful, her face a perfect oval and her ears slightly pointed. As he stared the golden skinned face with its arched brows set over brown almond shaped eyes shimmered. Behind the facade he could see a short s Asian woman with a snub nose and a badly cut fringe of black hair.  
"It's an illusion," he guessed .He looked harder. The figures wavered like cars coming through the heat mist on a country road. Greg could see the torn robes, the dishevelled hair and the dirt stains. Annoyingly the bard remained tall and handsome even with stubble and greasy hair.  
"Why didn’t you just make an avatar that looked good?" he asked the exemplar tactlessly. She was unconcerned.  
"I did "she said "I just turned into my real self over the last few days and ii couldn’t stand it. Haven't you lot had the same problem?"  
Greg opened his mouth to explain what he was but thought better of it .Too complicated. He realised with mounting excitement that Britt's appearance must be real. Of course, he told himself, I would love her just a much if she were ugly and fat. Then he realised that he'd admitted that he was in love even if it was only to himself. He sat down abruptly overwhelmed by his discovery.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Ben's question came simultaneously with Britt's more welcome cry of "Greg, are you alright?"  
"It's ok," he scrambled up "I was just thinking." He was smiling like an idiot at Britt. She gave him a puzzled look before turning away.  
"So are we killing them or nah?" asked the archer. "Rory?" He looked to the gladiator. "Tina?"  
"No, they haven’t offered us violence" said the exemplar then added, "of course I have to say that. It's the stupidest thing about this class." She took out a small mirror and began touching up her face, redrawing the sloe eyed beauty of the illusion. "God this sucks .I made this toon to look good now I have to put effort into it just because the game's breaking down."She squinted and her nose became slightly retrousse."You lot make up your own minds. I'm out for the time being"  
"I think.."began the archer.  
"I think,"interrupted Baelin mildly,"that you might want to wait"  
He nodded his head in the direction of the castle.  
A gate had opened at the castle's entrance. There was no moat just the enormous wrought black metal gate. Through the gate trotted four enormous white beasts- an elephant a rhinoceros a hippopotamus and -Greg took a second startled look -a kangaroo.  
The animals wore silver plating worked in black runes. Their reins were held by figures in black armour runed in silver. A horn began to call mournfully over the plain. On the rooftops of the castle crowds of black skeletal figures appeared, chanting .All Greg could make out was "kill" and "death". He didn’t really want to hear.  
"Excellent." said Rory. "Well, since there's four of us and five of you lot, why don’t you take the one on the left and we'll do the others?"  
"I'm ..I'm not really with them," squeaked Malagos .He was ignored. Greg was in a haze. Britt and Ben looked insulted. Baelin wordlessly tightened his armour straps, buckled his shield and unsheathed his sword.  
Opposite them the archer nocked an arrow and the gladiator crossed his curved swords in front of his chest. The exemplar drew her wand and held it lightly across her body. The bard stood in a relaxed pose with a small dreamy smile on his face. He glanced at his leader who nodded.  
"Beasts of the grasslands and the river beds arise" Brian sang in his deep voice. Drums and reed pipes began a slow dirge that seemed to rise from the very ground and they were joined in turn by the hollow throb of a didgeridoo. "These men are not your masters, you are free." The animals looked puzzled and began to swing their great heads to and fro to the rhythm of the music. "Cast off their bonds, cast off their lies, cast off your yokes and come to me"  
The creatures were getting excited now. They began to stomp and paw at the ground .The elephant reared and his rider fought to stay on. The didgeridoo thrummed louder and faster and the three quadrupeds began bucking and rearing in time, each buck lifting their hooves off the ground higher and higher.  
The kangaroo leant back on it tail and thrust forward with its powerful legs in the air. It rose off the ground and leaping backwards and swiped at its rider as she tumbled ingloriously into the dirt. The other three riders fell more gracefully and had their weapons in their hands as they righted themselves. They crouched ingloriously as the beasts leaped over them and began galloping determinedly towards Brian.  
The other humans instinctively backed away but Brain kept singing .The animals kept up their charge until almost the last moment. As they came within metres of the singer they banked sideways in unison and braked with a massive screech. A flying wall of black glittering dust covered the bard .He emerged as a dark statue and his voiced ceased. There was a momentary lull and the beasts shifted uneasily. The statue moved. He played a note, coughed softly and sang again. The animals relaxed, lowering themselves into resting positions and remaining enthralled.  
"Right " said Rory briskly. "We've got about five minutes before the spell breaks .So let's get rid of these guys. Chop chop. "He looked dismissively at the Alliance group.  
"You can have that one," he nodded towards the kangaroo's rider who was coming towards them, dishevelled and limping. With that generous offer he ran full tilt at the other three riders, whirling his two krises around in a blaze of golden light. The ranger and the exemplar followed more cautiously.  
Ben shrugged and did a far less impressive spin with his daggers. Britt and Baelin were ready but Greg looked sadly at the stump of his staff. He held his hand over the purple gem and wished devoutly that some residual power remained in it. The gem blinked a staccato as if in response and a subtle murmur invaded his mind.  
He looked around cautiously and bent close. "Can you hear me?" he whispered half inhope and half in fear. The murmur intensified and the gem blinked twice. "Is that one blink for yes and two for no? "he asked, feeling silly. The gem blinked once and the hairs on Greg's forearm rose up in goosebumps."So one is no two is yes?" he breathed and the gem blinked twice. Greg was thinking rapidly.  
"So the power isn’t in the staff, it's in the gem that's on the staff "he told himself and the stone blinked twice.  
"Hang on," he said "I wasn't even talking…can you hear me think?" The stone winked and the murmuring in his head became a rustling that invaded every edge of his brain.  
"O no" Greg closed his eyes and went hot and cold. When had that damn staff been eavesdropping? What did it know? He thought about the joy and wonder of his self-admission of love. Blushing madly, he threatened it silently. "Whatever you heard it had better stay between you and me or there will be more firewood tonight. "There was the sound of distant laughter, which echoed inside his skull.  
"Greg? "Baelin's voice, coming urgently.  
The kangaroo rider was face down in the sand with one of Ben's daggers in her back. Her death seemed to have shaken the animals out of their reverie though. The kangaroo was bounding towards them with a mean look on its face. Or maybe kangaroos always looked mean, thought Greg wildly. He tensed and held his broken staff in front of him like a talisman.  
The bard was also face down in the sand, his broken harp lying beside him. One hand was reaching reflexely toward it.  
The gladiator had downed one of the other riders and had the two remaining engaged in vicious hand to hand combat while the archer danced around them trying to get a clear shot. Their backs were towards the fallen bard and Greg guessed that they hadn’t seen his fate. Which mean that they also hadn’t seen the several hundred angry kilos of elephant, rhinoceros and hippopotamus bearing down on them. He strained to see the exemplar and saw her standing, black shards whirling around her while she mouthed her spells. As he watched she staggered as though from an enormous blow but he saw no one near her.  
Greg was knocked aside as the kangaroo made a mighty jump at him. It leant back mid-jump and extended its hind legs to slice him down. As Greg rolled he realised that it was Baelin who had saved him and who was crouching over him with a raised shield, protecting both of them from the massive legs.  
From the corner of his eye he could see Britt running screaming towards the other two animals .Ben followed, whirling and throwing both his daggers in succession.  
Baelin somersaulted lightly over Greg's body and righted himself, facing the furious kangaroo with a look of sad resignation. The creature snarled and rushed him, extending its short arms and claws before tumbling ingloriously in the dusk as he leapt over its head and severed its spine with one swipe.  
"Not the animal's fault, "Baelin murmured, and wiped his sword on the fur of the twitching corpse.  
"It was just a collection of pixels ye?" Greg reminded him. He caught himself wondering where THAT word came from.  
Baelin looked up sharply.  
"And we are not?"He turned and walked thoughtfully towards the fracas.  
The two imperials were still occupied with the final rider who was using a twin headed flail, twirling it like a baton so that the two spiked metal heads flew around on their chains like two mini comets. Rory had lost one of his long rippled blades and was using the other like a fencing foil, trying to impale the rider through the storm of her weapon.  
Britt and Ben were each engaged with one of the remaining animals. The rhinoceros was stabbing at Britt with his silver gilded horn and the elephant was rearing up and stamping as Ben dodged from side to side. The hippo was rampaging up and down at the gate of the castle .It seemed to be trying to attack the doors. It charged repeatedly, turning sideways at the last moment and crashing into the woodwork with a *whoomph* that radiated across the plain like the shockwave from an explosion.  
After five or six attacks there was a mighty crack and the double doors gave way, one swinging loosely on enormous bronzed hinges, the other lying splintered on the ground. The shouting from the parapets died away. The only sounds were the creaking of the door and the stifled roaring of the animals. Even the thumps as the elephant came down were muted.  
Greg became aware of the exemplar crawling towards him wand raised. He put his staff in front of him in a reflexely protective gesture but the caster shook her head. He hurried to her and helped her up.  
"We're going to need a shield," she whispered. He was shocked to see blood bubbling in bright foam from her nose. She coughed and a plug of white and red spattered him. Greg was frightened. He licked his lips and was revolted to taste her blood.  
"How?" he asked frantically. He could see Britt stumbling, holding up her arms ineffectually against the pounding feet above her. Then Baelin was above her, shield raised, heaving the great beast away and bringing his sword back in a deadly thrust as it fell sideways. It's horn waved once or twice feebly as its massive head rocked then it stilled. Greg gasped with relief.  
The exemplar tugged on his arm and pointed. The maddened hippo had turned, prodded by the spears of a squad of black-coated guards who had appeared at the gate. Ben was still twisting and turning beneath the elephant and the gladiator had fallen in a grotesque embrace with his foe. The archer stood unscathed and uncertain.  
The other caster closed her eyes whether in pain or in irritation Greg couldn't tell.  
"Raise your weapon "she croaked. "Channel through me. Shield."  
Rather hopelessly Greg raised the broken staff. "I hope you know how to do this "he muttered to the gem and it winked. He found himself visualising a purple beam extending through the caster to near the walls and as he visualise it, it materialised .The beam spread becoming an umbrella of clear violet light. The hippo ran into the wall of light and froze. The elephant screamed as Ben hamstrung it and it sank to its knees to be dispatched by the archer and Baelin.  
Greg had sunk to his knees with the effort of maintaining the barrier. Sweat was pouring down his face, his breathing hurt his throat and his head was bursting. All the sensations came from inside him. He was unaware of anything outside his own body, his staff, and the light his staff was creating. He didn’t see the guards sink to their knees as a doorway of blue black light appeared on the battlefield.  
Out of the doorway stepped the sorcerer Baladoon .He was dressed this time in a robe and cape of black velvet lined with purple silk. The diadem on his head was of black set with deep purple amesthysts. His hands were covered with leathery webbed black gloves, which had pointed talons of purple metal.  
The sorcerer clapped his hands together making a hollow thudding sound .The barrier Greg had created with so much pain shimmered and died. Greg looked hopelessly at Baladoon but the sorcerer was smiling.  
"Impressive" he said. "I look forward to meeting you in the Halls of Doom."  
He turned and walked through his doorway again and the guards turned and marched through the castle gates. The crowds on the parapets started milling around like a football crowd after a disappointing match before they, too, left.  
Greg got shakily to his feet. The only other people on their feet were Ben who was cleaning his daggers unconcernedly and Britt who was standing next to Baelin. Baelin was kneeling beside the corpse of the elephant stroking it gently. He was crying .He looked up at Greg.  
"I had to do it," he pleaded. "I had to save Britt."  
"Sure you did "said Greg awkwardly. The tugging at his sleeve became insistent again and he looked down. The exemplar whispered something. He Bent down to listen, turning his face sideways to hear her.  
"Heal us, you stupid git,"she hissed  
"I'm not a healer," Greg said uneasily, "and our potions are all gone. Anyway if you die here wont you just respawn at the other end of the map?'  
She grabbed his ear ad twisted it with surprising strength for a dying woman .He yelped.  
"I am NOT," she said in a fierce whisper, "going to finish my days in this game with a loss to a goddam animal. Go to the damn paladin and channel his Holy Light to heal us. And do it quick. Idiot."  
Greg approached Baelin tentatively.  
"Are you OK?" he asked by way of preamble. Baelin turned a tear-streaked face to him and nodded.  
"Apparently, "said Greg, "You have Holy light or something.Andihavetochannelitihopeyoudontmind"He finished it in a rush. He didn’t know why he felt so uncomfortable. The request just felt rather intimate.  
Baelin nodded again and got to his feet. He held his sword above his head.  
"Begin" he said simply and without embarrassment.  
Greg placed the gem to his lips. "Please help," he whispered. "Oh," he added as an afterthought, "Thanks for back there too."  
The crystal blinked twice in recognition.  
This time Greg simply poured the power into the tip of Baelin's sword. It felt right, as though the paladin was the one who would know what to do.  
The light from the sword was white gold, painful to watch but joyously so. It suffused the paladin and arced from him to the combatants on the battlefield, allied Imperial and dark enemy alike.  
It even, Greg noticed, flashed out towards the animals.  
"Umm" he started to say, "Is that a good idea? "But his voice trailed off.  
From each of the injured and corpses came a column of golden transparent light and their bodies rose to be suspended in a well of radiance. Even Malagos's body came out of the mound of sand where he had hidden himself.  
Baelin lowered his sword and the bodies descended gently onto the ground. The glow around them faded and died.  
"Took your time," muttered the gladiator,"I can't afford too long a stay in those vats."  
"You get the blue vats too?" asked Greg. "It's not just me?"  
"Blue? What are you talking about? They're pink. Like a warm strawberry milkshake, with rose petals floating on the surface." Rory looked dreamy for a moment but saw his teammates staring at him and shook himself.  
"Well let's get on with this "he said gruffly.  
"How?" asked the exemplar .She was fixing her appearance with the help of a conjured mirror. "I mean, we shouldn’t even be able to talk to each other. There's no way we can get into the same dungeon as opposing factions.'  
Rory shrugged. He looked tired.  
"Then we go in separately. At this point I just want SOMEONE to win." He looked across at Ben who gave him an equally weary thumbs up.  
"Nice team you got there by the way" added Rory graciously, "and good work with the knives." He stared across at Baelin who was being ecstatically nuzzled by the fighting quartet of animals. "Your healer's a bit wussy though."  
"Actually that's our tank."  
Rory stared again then shrugged again. "Whatever."  
They moved as a group across the sand, the armoured beasts bounding and gambolling around Baelin like a pack of eager Labradors. The others kept well away but Greg stepped gingerly over the lolling kangaroo to stand near Baelin.  
"You OK?" he asked  
" I'm worried about what will happen to them when the game shuts down." Baelin confided to Greg sadly. He rubbed the elephant's trunk and it trumpeted softly and ecstatically.  
Greg was impatient but tried to be light-hearted. "Well at least we will all go together when we go as the old song says"  
"What song?" asked Baelin.  
Greg stopped, confused. "I don’t know "he admitted "But you see my point? If the game shuts down we all go out of it one way or another. I wouldn’t worry about it"  
Baelin said thoughtfully "I do worry about it. I think-does it matter if it is a game? We still exist as creatures of free will inside of it. And so it flows that every moment that we exist no matter where we are, we should strive to be the best we can be .To help others and to care about all creatures. Even, as you say, the pixie ones."  
"Pixels," corrected Greg automatically but he was stunned. Three days ago Baelin's entire vocabulary had been "Nice day for fishing, ain't it? Huh-yuk." Greg wasn't even sure that huh-yuk even counted. Where did the fisherman-paladin he corrected himself- get the language and the ability to discuss the meaning of his existence? Why was he discussing it with Greg, a simple garlic farmer?  
Greg's thoughts wandered on in a mildly disorientated fashion. What the hell was a garlic farmer anyway? The only evidence he had of his profession was the now tattered string of garlic bulbs attached to his belt and the title "Greg the garlic farmer". He squinted, trying to remember if his little hut contained any vegetables at all. His mind abruptly flooded with images of Honeywood and of his home. He saw himself standing happily outside the hut giving his gentle little quests to passing players. A feeling of wellbeing washed over him Greg smiled dreamily  
Britt noticed.  
"Are you ill or something? "she asked. "What's the matter?"  
"I don’t know", he admitted. "It's just that every time I try to figure out what's going on I get all dizzy and confused. Or a headache. Or both."  
"Wow "said Rory. "You must have gotten the deluxe edition with memory suppression and compulsion"  
"You what?" Now Ben was interested.  
Rory explained. "People who really wanted to immerse themselves in the game could get the next level of hypnotic interface and actually not be able to recall their lives outside the game. If they started to suspect the game would kick in with superimposed memories and script. Sometimes with extra endorphins. It cost a fortune and to be honest most of us didn’t want it anyway. We," he gestured, "like talking about other stuff when we're killing and eviscerating the opposing faction. Saw a nice ballet the other day in Auckland, actually. Meant to ask the others about it before all this happened."  
"I saw it,"sniffed the archer .The principals were o.k. But the corps was ragged, I thought." He was picking pieces of bloodied flesh from an arrowhead as he spoke."And that divertissement with the hunter and the swans? Totally out of place, spoiled the entire ambience of the second act"  
Ben audibly ground his teeth. "Do you mind? Can we get back to the point at hand? Like, doe anyone know anything about the castle? I've only gone in through the portal or the group finder before."  
"The Halls of Doom." Rory's voice became authoritative again. It's literally a dungeon. In a dungeon. You can gain access through the sewers."  
"The sewers. Of course there are sewers," muttered Greg drearily, but only the gem seemed to hear him. It winked again.  
"Do you want me to fix your staff? "asked the exemplar.  
"Fix it or just make it look normal? "He asked suspiciously.  
"Both."She reached behind her where one of the rider's spears lay embedded point first in the dirt. Expertly she pulled out the spearhead from the haft. Greg handed over his gem reluctantly and frowned as she placed it atop the spear .She waved her want and muttered .The wood came alive, growing and weaving tendrils around the jewel until it sat securely in an intricate cage. Greg looked at it doubtfully. He could swear the stone was purring like a cat in a basket. It did look rather fine, glowing through the network of black tendrils above the straight new staff.  
"Umm thanks," he said, "It isn't just magic is it? You know, like your nose? It'll stay on?"  
"My nose will, yes" she said evenly,"and so will your mage stone"  
The archer snickered.  
"So which way to the sewers "asked Britt hastily. The exemplar gestured curtly and they trudged in a ragged group behind her.


	9. GETTING IN

GETTING IN  
The castle was not sitting in the middle of the plain as Greg had thought but sitting well back on the edge .The unevenly shaped edges of the plain had furrows and wrinkles like mini fjords set into them. Greg could see the black sand cascading in endless eddies over the rim. If he looked more closely he could see the movement of the sands like a constant tide sweeping to the perimeter. He wondered vaguely how it got back up again.  
Behind the castle was a deep chasm as though the blackened earth had been split open by a mighty lightning bolt. It ran from underneath the castle to the horizon and within boiled a lurid green river.  
Greg peered into it.  
"Green? Why would sewers be green? What do these people even eat?"  
"Us probably" answered Britt absently. She turned to Rory.  
"Sooo..the access to the castle dungeon is through this stuff?"  
"Yep"  
"Is there a boat?"  
"Nope"  
"Great " she turned away then back to him," you should consider writing guidebooks. "She sighed. "I guess we swim, guys"  
Something was happening to the figures of the Imperial guild group as they moved towards the edge of the canyon. Their outlines remained clear but Greg could see the chasm and the castle behind them.  
"Are you..are you getting see-through?" he asked.  
"I was thinking that you looked transparent," said the spell caster.  
"We're starting to be phased from each other "said Rory. "I was wondering why Id never seen allied players outside the dungeon. It must be like a separate instance for us. I suspect that we'll become invisible to each other when we reach the castle."  
Ben started and began speaking rapidly.  
"I've only done this dungeon once and I hear the final boss changes between three. Got any tips?"  
"Yeh. First boss is a dps test - it's a gauntlet of mobs they keep throwing at you -you gotta stop them activating the defence switches that re around the walls. If they hit more than half of them it's a wipe. Second boss is a tank and spank-big dragon thing, usual dragon stuff -claws, tail, breath. Third boss - well, we've done the skeleton army and the witch coven and the harpy nest and those are the usual three but I've heard that with the Golden Rod it's Baladoon himself. End game stuff and I don’t know what he'll do. Didn't he appear at the end of your entry dungeon and invite you?'  
"O yeah "said Ben thoughtfully. "But he didn't say much."  
"Well, there ya go "said Rory. "Go figure it out. Cyas later. And Good luck "  
"You too" said Ben  
Ben and Rory reached out to shake hands but the rapidly fading outlines couldn't connect. . They were left awkwardly waving at each other.  
Britt had strapped her sword across her back and was helping Greg do the same with his staff. Baelin was securing his sword and shield and Malagos was bleating for his wand.  
"No way "said Ben firmly. "You're just along for the ride. I suppose you can all swim?"  
Greg hadn’t thought about it."I guess so "he said, and looked doubtfully at the heaving green mess below them, "Is it swimmable"  
"Let's find out "said Ben and untied the length of rope he had been carrying around his waist since they had left the conjuror's castle .He secured it to a surprisingly convenient rocky outcrop and gestured for the others to descend.  
"Ill jump " he said "we may nee the rope and daggers don't weigh you down"  
As Greg descended hand over hand on the rope and the revolting liquid came closer, the stench became overpowering and he felt his mouth watering with nausea. He gritted his teeth and dropped the last metre into the mess.  
The green liquid was every bit as disgusting as Greg had feared. For a start it was warm - not the pleasant warmth of the blue vats but the sort of sticky cloying warmth that carried unpleasant odours and tastes .It was slimy and faintly sticky like a badly set custard, an allusion made stronger by the layer of scum on the top on which floated pieces of unidentifiable solid matter.  
Ugh" he heaved and swallowed his own bile, which, he reflected, was probably a better option than swallowing the goo. He looked around and saw Ben, Baelin and Britt. Malagos was no where to be seen .The staff felt reassuringly solid against his back .He hoped that the gem had remained secure during the drop and was heartened by the faint whispering snigger from behind.  
Breaststroke was surprisingly easy. The green slime parted as his hands cleaved it and then rolled around and behind him, leaving pieces of twig and gravel and fragments of unmentionable material in his hair and on his clothes. Baelin and Britt were swimming strongly ahead of him .He wondered how they could do that given the weight of their armour and swords .Ben was trying to swim with a classic crawl and swearing every time the muck entered his nose and mouth. He would spit out some gunk, swear again and return to his swimming .The stench was worse with each passing metre.  
"Heads up! Coming through!" came the cry from behind and Greg risked turning his head. The Imperials swept by on a transparent carpet of solidified goo. The exemplar was in front, chanting and making the path while the bard brought up the rear singing what sounded suspiciously like Little Eva's "Locomotion". Whatever the song spell was, it propelled them along at a rate of knots and their translucent forms sped past. Rory and the archer gave the alliance players queenly waves as they overtook them. Ben's curses echoed against the canyon's walls.  
Greg swam gloomily on, trying to ignore the hank of hair (not his own, he was sure) that was stuck across one eye. With the other eye he could see a grill ahead, the gloop bubbling against the fretwork as it passed through.  
The grill seemed to be mostly ornamental l though .As he reached out and grabbed onto it his feet kicked freely underneath. He realised with revulsion that he would have to dive under to get to the other side.  
"May as well get it over with "he thought and, closing his eyes, he took a big breath. The slime closed over him and he pushed himself blindly underneath the grill and then upwards, surfacing on the other side with his nostrils plugged wit debris. He coughed and spluttered as he was buffeted against the side of an artificial tunnel. There was a narrow shelf above him and he pulled himself onto it He collapsed onto he shelf and his nausea overwhelmed him. He heaved and vomited until his chest and his belly were aching.  
"You don’t have to add to the mess," snarled Ben in his ear.  
Greg's vision cleared .He was sick and pale and shaking and the steam from the river of scum was already him off again but he swallowed resolutely.  
Such light as there was came from outside the grill - just enough to see the beginning of the ledge, the roiling river of green and the figures of his companions. Britt, Baelin, Ben.  
"Where's Malagos?" Greg asked hoarsely. He had to repeat the question above the roaring noise that was filling the chamber.  
"Little swine wouldn’t come down the rope "said Ben. "Rabbited on about not being able to swim and fear of water. Like this is water?" Ben looked around."Be helpful if we could see."  
"My staff "croaked Greg,"can you reach it and untie it?"  
It was Britt who reached over and fumbled with the ties. Greg was acutely aware of her closeness.  
"Stupid knots "she fumed." My fault, I tied them in the first place." She patted his back as the staff came free and flew into his outstretched hands.  
"Is it you or the staff that is so eager?"  
The gem lit up the passage .It ran for another hundred metres beside the canal of goo .At the end was an enormous lurid green waterfall, going straight up for at least 100 metres. Beside the waterfall was a rusting iron ladder and at the top the light he was casting reflected off of hundreds of tiny red eyes.  
"I'm beginning to see Malagos's point of view," said Greg. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped devoutly that he wouldn’t disgrace himself. That ladder looked awfully high.  
Ben prodded him.  
"You're up Bruh, " he said cheerfully. "We need a light to climb by. That means you."  
It took Greg and Britt a few moments to jury rig a carrying sling for the staff, but Greg had to admit that it made a lovely rose tinted light. It even seemed to give off a faint scent of roses neutralising some of the stench from below. He reflected that he must look like a large matchstick with the staff sticking out of his belt at the side and projecting into space above him. Or a rocket ready to launch. Matchstick, rocket. All these new words. His vision blurred and he resolutely banished the pictures of Honeywood that danced in his head. Greg grasped the ladder and began climbing grimly. He would NOT think about the height. He would NOT think about the drop. He would NOT think about those tiny glittering red eyes.  
Actually he thought about all of them, sometimes at once and sometimes in rotation. It helped keep his mind off the fact that he was simultaneously sweating and clammy, hungry and nauseated and tired and agitated.  
There was a skittering above him and the gem flared just as he came to the last few rungs of the ladder. A smell of burning flesh filled the chamber above and as he crawled over the ladder onto he landing above his hands and knees crushed and crunched against a hundred little carapaces and legs.  
Greg raised his torch. Fist sized spiders lay everywhere, singly and in piles, some twitching in their death throes as they fried in the rosy light. Their little fangs chittered and stilled. The smell of burnt meat receded. Greg stood up, brushing the sticky ichor and debris from his hands.  
The cavern was enormous, the size of a football stadium. It was bisected by the stream, which ran into the now familiar circle of light that signified the entrance to a dungeon. The stream was no longer green but a deep radiant blue and the smell in the chamber was the faintly damp and dusty smell of an underground cave. Two portals stood on either side of the instance at a respectable distance of a hundred metres or so. Two golden lion statues flanked one; the symbol of the allied forces .The other was surmounted by a single black and gold double-headed eagle of the imperium. Mosaic paths depicting monsters being slain led from the portals to the dungeon entrance. Now that they were closer Greg could see columns of porphyry holding up the darkened dome of the chamber. Bat like creatures flew overhead and crouched on the carvings atop the columns. Greg was awed.  
"Why couldn’t we just take the damn portal?" grumbled Ben.  
The others had clambered up behind Greg without him even noticing. They untied and dropped their belongings and stood staring. Even Ben seemed temporarily muted and by common silent assent they walked around, holding up Gregs gem and taking note of the huge friezes that ran between the tops of the columns and the giant bas relief renditions of battles that filled the space between .The dome was too high and unlit t be anything than a dark shape but Greg guessed that the carvings and mosaics continued.  
"This is it? "Asked Baelin in a hushed voice. "Thee end of the world?"  
"The end of your world maybe" said Ben offhandedly,"I'm hoping it's just an entry to mine."  
"Ben the ever compassionate. So this is all you want? "asked Britt. "Just going home?"  
"Don’t get me wrong princess, I've enjoyed the ride. Some of it anyway. Makes me glad I never got the deluxe edition with all the immersions and sensations though. A game should be a game, don’t you think?"  
Britt was cleaning her sword and adjusting her armour. She looked up surprised.  
"That's quite a mature attitude. You mean that we should be able to differentiate between fantasy and reality? So we should keep them compartmentalised a and mechanisms to blur those boundaries can be dangerous and unhealthy?"  
"Um, something like that mm, yeh." Ben was sharpening his daggers on a whetsone he had produced from his pocket. He offered it to Baelin who took it with a grunt.  
"But " Baelin said gently as he carefully stroked the edge of his sword against the stone "You have said that the game was designed to help people. That those who lose themselves in the game need the respite to heal. Could they do that if it was like reading a book from the outside?"  
Britt looked frustrated. "It was designed to heal carefully selected people who would be properly evaluated at the start, during the treatment, and at the end. Then it got touted as a panacea, a miracle treatment by people who wanted to make money out of it. Then all sorts of people demanded access to it. They didn’t want to be healed. They didn’t want to learn how to cope. They weren’t interested in getting back to the day-to-day slog of just living a decent and productive life. They wanted to stay in the game and not think about the outside so the game ended up being bad for them. And most of them wanted the taxpayer to pay for it."   
She warmed to the theme. "This game is full of people who aren’t making any effort to live a real life. Look at Malagos .His marriage broke down. Did he try to learn to be a more interesting or a nicer person, to mend fences with his wife or to meet another partner, or even to become involved in the community? To get a hobby, to work as a volunteer? No he got himself a magic flute and tooted up some nubile girlie minions and fully intended to spend the rest of his life in the game perving at them. Ugh."  
More softly Greg said. "But you said that some people are so damaged and hurt that they can't cope in your world. That this is their only option for living a life. Is that so bad? And," he swallowed painfully; "if you loved someone and they were that hurt wouldn’t you rather they lived in here than not at all?"  
Britt waved her hand dismissively. "I used to think that. But now I see that most of the people in this game are just whiny little gits who need a good kick up the bum."  
Ben grinned at her. "You've spent too much time with me."  
She looked ashamed. "It's true .I'm thinking like you now. And it only took a couple of days." She looked ready to cry. "It's not that I don't think there are people it's helped "she said pleadingly to Greg. It's just that the numbers harmed are so much more are so much more than the numbers treated. And I think closing it down is the best thing. The people who were in it for therapy can get conventional help for their mental health issues. Those that really have them "she added, looking daggers at Ben.  
Greg looked at her, hurt, then he turned away."At least I know what you think of me " he said stiffly. This was worse, he thought, than when she treated him as an NPC.  
Ben was patting his pockets absently.  
"Where's that locket? The one Baladoon gave me…us?  
"He said, "we need it to get into the dungeon level that has the golden rod"  
"Didn't you put it around your neck?" asked Britt.  
He shook his head. "I don't wear jewellery," he said curtly. "I'm a rogue not a caster"  
"Well you should have given it to Greg then." she said "that’s why it had a chain on it genius. So you wouldn’t lose it"  
"Looking for something?" asked a familiar voice. Malagos was standing at the edge of the cavern right by the waterfall. He had a silly smile on his chubby face. In one hand he held his wand and in the other he dangled the golden locket .It spun around on its chain, catching the light from the dungeon entrance and sparkling as it revolved.  
It was Baelin who asked the obvious question. "How?"  
Hitched a ride with the imperials. Well, as long as they stayed corporeal. Had to use an invisibility spell as well as giving them a bit of help with the motor power but it was worth it. I just sat up here and waited for you. I must say, I didn't think getting into your gear would be that easy. What are you, peasants? Never seen the glories of the Vatican or Byzantium or the ruins of Imperial Rome? These are just pathetic copies put here for uneducated halfwits like you to gawk at."  
I can't imagine why your wife didn’t like you" said Britt conversationally.  
"She didn’t like me because, like you, she never appreciated my greatness. Do you really think that I will let you finish the game? Send me back to that cow when I could be happy here? I thought I had you on that plain. I thought we'd all die and respawn back near Honeywood and you'd never make it back here. But no, saviour boy and his sidekick had to mess up the show."  
"Err, you do know that the game's degrading? It won't be here much longer?" Greg said to him  
"That's where you're wrong. It's the finishing of he game that ends it all. If there are people still playing they can't shut it down. We stay here forever while they fight out the legal battles about player's rights.'  
"What? What? Hold up there "Ben was making chopping motions with his hands. "What legal battles? What player's rights?"  
"I'm not stupid, you know." said Malagos smugly. "I might be lost in the game but I'm not "Lost in the game" I spend all my time here but I have my own minions reporting to me from outside. So I can give you the real state of play."  
Ben said, "Are you monologuing? Cos this sounds awfully like monologuing."  
Malagos looked annoyed. "No .Yes. Maybe - that is, not like a film villain .I just want you to appreciate how clever I am."  
"And that's not like a film villain? Ok.So, monologue away"  
"Right" Malagos looked uncertain. "This is the original server , correct? And it's the only one which is still the personal property of Dr. Alan Morris, genius creator and inventor etc. etc. The other Skycraft servers are all his too but they are leased out to other operators. On seven year leases. Seven years, geddit? That's how long Morris has been missing .The bet is he went into the game to try to get over the death of his brother and he stayed there. If this game doesn’t end the leases get auto renewed. And Skycraft as a whole will get new Devs, new storylines, new ways of making a buck, and new ways to trap people into spending their lives in it, which is fine by me. If it ends, Morris will have to surface one way or the other. And my bet is he will let them close the whole thing down. The guy's been missing for seven years; he's probably gone feral somewhere, growing herbs and spinning his own yogurt in the hills. I know these yuppie types."  
"One way or the other?" Greg asked  
"Ye, he was apparently pretty broken when he went in, so who knows? But if he surfaces compus mentis he can take over again and if he's ga-ga then his manager can sign off on his behalf. And the talk is that the manager has spent the last few years wringing his hands and doing a mea culpa-that means my fault by the way- about letting him go in the first place. Morris never let him know where his actual body is or where his avatar is."  
"I know what a mea culpa is "said Britt, offended.  
"Sure you do sweetheart. A classical education really goes with a chainmail bikini" Ben automatically shot his arm out to stop Britt's lunge and kept this eyes on Malagos. "Anyway my best bet for staying in the game is if the game isn’t completed, Morris stays in the game and the foreign Devs take over. And so.."He held the locket over the stream again and dropped it.  
There was a flash of pink and the locket stayed suspended in the rosy ray of light. Then it turned obediently, travelled along the three metre long humming pink beam and dropped into Greg's outstretched hand.  
Greg handed the locket to Ben.  
"That's what you're supposed to do if a villain is monologuing isn’t it?" He asked with a smile.  
Ben clapped him on the back  
"That's exactly what you're supposed to do "  
They stood beaming at each other.  
Malagos gave a screech of rage. He jumped up and down and waved his arms around like a child having a tantrum. Then he lost his footing, teetered flailing his arms around for a second and plunged backwards down the sweep of the waterfall. They heard his enraged wail echoing as he fell.  
With one accord the party walked to the edge of the drop and peered down.  
"Do you think he survived?" asked Greg doubtfully.  
"I hope not,"said Baelin calmly and Greg looked at him in shock  
"He is small and weak but he is dangerous. I hope that he respawns many kilometres away."explained Baelin. "Then we will have done what we came to do without his interference"  
"And that thing, lady and gentlemen 'said Ben with a flourish "is this"  
Ben opened the locket by pressing the catch on its side. The locket twisted and warped in his hand. They were left gazing at a golden key attached to a golden stone. Above it floated the banner. "Dungeon-Halls of Doom. End game."  
Greg touched it gently. He looked up at Ben. "May I?" Ben nodded and Greg walked over to the instance entrance. There at the bottom of the swirling circles of blue and purple and white light there was a small recess set into the cavern floor. Almost by instinct Greg pressed down in the recess and a tiny column of porphyry not more than ten centimetres high rose up into the room. At the top was a slight depression. Greg stood staring at it.  
"Well, get on with it before I take it off of you" said Ben  
"Have you never heard of a dramatic pause?" asked Britt as the column sank slowly back. "I was enjoying it"  
The instance shimmered .A golden skull appeared in the middle of the swirls and a bony golden finger beckoned  
. They all walked in. Britt looked eager, Ben looked aggressive and Baelin looked determined. Greg jut felt scared and slightly sick.


	10. THE HALLS OF DOOM

THE HALLS OF DOOM  
As soon as they entered they were attacked by a wedge formation of flying bat like creatures.  
"Gather my enemies, " yelled Baelin and the bats clustered around him thickly, allowing Britt to cleave them down and Greg to explode purple magic at them. Ben was trying to get the ones that were still flying around and cursing.  
"We should have an archer, " he yelled." Greg can you zap a few of them?" Greg pointed his staff obediently and muttered a request to it .It felt rude to order it with spells at this point in their relationship. They had barely finished the bats off when the room was filled with snakes, hissing and rearing and spitting poison.  
"If the next wave is spiders," said Britt "I'm going to be seriously annoyed>"  
The next wave was spiders.  
They were starting to miss a few so by the time the humanoid minions were rushing at them they were still trying to get the last of the snakes and spiders. The mobs hadn’t heard of friendly fire either: the pools of venom that started to cover the floor did no damage to the enemy but ate through the team's footwear like acid. The webs that were hanging everywhere were catching on their clothes and wrapping around their heads, obscuring their sight and slowing the swords of Baelin and Britt. Greg managed to stay at the edges and keep his staff free and Ben simply danced around the melee slicing at mobs and webs alike.  
"Six waves I think "Ben called "so three animals three human."  
Human was possibly an exaggeration Greg thought for the next two waves. The first had 6 trolls with clubs who did a cone shaped aoe that stunned anyone caught in it. They were easily dispatched.  
The second wave was six elven casters who turned the room into a chequerboard of fire and ice.  
"Jump on the ice so you don't get stuck" said Ben  
"What about the fire?" screamed Britt.  
"Stay still. Greg try to bubble us during fire. Use Baelin's holy power like you did before - channel it. It'll be a case of killing the elves before our health goes down too much"  
While he was explaining Ben had been targeted by the ice mage and had failed to jump .He became encased in a mini iceberg. Greg instinctively shot an arcane beam at the ice and it shattered, leaving Ben gasping. Baelin raise his sword and knelt and Greg realised that that was the signal to send a pulse to Ben using Baelin as a conduit. A ricochet of purple bounced off of Baelins sword onto Ben who immediately looked less grey and drawn.  
The mages, sensing Baelins vulnerability, turned towards him and aimed their wands. At which point Britt sailed through the air decapitating all six of them in a neat group.  
"Nicely done," Ben approved  
"Eww"Greg felt faintly sick. The pale lavender coloured heads lolled on the floor next to the writhing bodies, each spurting purple ichor.  
"What's next?" muttered Ben .he looked down the tunnel where the other mobs had come from and failed to see the first of the heads rise and float, swelling as it did so .It became enormous, the size of a Halloween prize pumpkin and its mouth was a gaping black hole from which came a fierce green beam. Greg launched forward, tackling Ben and diving to the ground to avoid the beam  
"Thanks for the save bruh," said Ben sincerely  
Soon the room was full of the six enormous heads, spinning around and emitting the beams at irregular intervals. The bodies had risen too. They didn’t seem to be attacking but they were spinning around and interfering with their line of sight. There was s no room to manoeuvre. Greg stayed on the floor, crawling around and avoiding the beam from the lowest of the heads by following it round and rounds at a fast crawl as it spun. The others followed suit but  
"This isn’t going to work for long," panted Ben," One of us is going to get caught and I bet that beam is deadly"  
"Yes."Baelin stood up. Holding his shield in font of him to absorb one of the beams he wielded his sword like a cricket bat to deflect another into the path of a third head .The targeted head exploded in a shower of ichor.  
"Yes! "Britt did a double roll, coming up and holding her sword in front of her as a combination shield and deflector. Another head exploded.  
Ben looked at his knives s and shrugged.  
"Sometimes size does matter" he said and flattened himself against the floor, narrowly missing being knocked out by an out of control head with a hole blown right through it.  
Greg curled up in a foetal position and waited for it al to end.  
"All done "announced Britt.  
Greg uncurled cautiously then stood up. He noticed Ben doing the same.  
Bens' natural bounciness returned quickly. There was a small chest in the centre of the pile of bodies and he grabbed the pile of gold from it. Greg wondered why he bothered considering the imminent shutdown of the game  
"That should have been it for the gauntlet" he said, "Now we need to get down the corridor. I think the instance is 3 main chambers in a row with tunnels in between. He started walking towards the darkened empty corridor then stopped abruptly.  
"Bit suspicious" he said, "Anyone got a coin or a stone?"  
Baelin tossed him the whetstone they had been using earlier and looked on curiously.  
"Bit of light Greg if you would? Thanks"  
In the light of Greg's gem Ben threw the stone in the middle of the floor. Electric blue bars shot out at knee height all along the corridor .The stone shattered as one of the beams hi tit mid flight. The bars remained, jutting out at different lengths and forming a maze with narrow gaps between them.  
"Well at least they are staying in one place "said Baelin cheerfully.  
"Great. Greg, lead the way will you? I think we need the light on to see the maze.  
With Greg's light leading the way they traversed the corridor in, Ben told them approvingly, record time.  
"Anyone done any challenge dungeons? Stupid question. It's where you have to complete a dungeon in a certain time"  
"What do you get from that?" asked Britt  
"The pleasure of knowing that you're better than anyone else" said Ben,"and a title you can wear above your head to rub it in". Probably wont work now though" He clicked his fingers and as scroll appeared above him with tiny cursive writing on it. He looked through it, drew his index finger over one of the lines and clicked again .A small golden banner bearing the words "Champion Ben" appeared above his head. He looked pleased.  
"Haven’t you ever worn a title?" he asked Britt. Like "Pet Master Britt "Or Britt of a Thousand Quests ' when you've done all those questlines? Bet you've got that"  
Britt sniffed. "No, of course not. I mean, yes, I've done it but no, I've never worn a title." She looked a bit cross."To be honest I didnt know you could do that"  
Ben laughed then stopped again.  
"We've come to the end of the maze " he said, "The next boss must be close."  
Greg sniffed.  
"Does anyone else smell sulphur?" he asked nervously  
The dragon that was crouched in the centre of the chamber made Ben's ex workmate look puny. The purple body was spherical, an enormous swollen belly of palest violet surmounted by a vast head which was several shades darker. It was balanced on huge crouching back limbs and a spiked tail, which wound protectively around the abdomen. Short stubby wings protruded from its shoulders and it carried a golden egg between two short front limbs. The ridged brow nearly touched the ceiling. Greg wondered how the creature could move. It filled the chamber.  
"Damn" said Ben "I remember now. We have to get it down without the egg cracking. If the egg cracks the thing goes berserk and we're all dead."  
"You remember NOW?" asked Britt incredulously "You don't think being about to meet something like that would have jogged your memory a tiny bit?"  
"Settle down princess. Rory was right. It's a tank and spank .All Baelin has to do is keep it turned away from the rest of us while we try to get in and gut it. From the side of course. If we get too much in the front it 'll turn its attention away from the tank and that means a one shot. That hide is too thick at the back though. Got to get those scales."  
Ben jerked his head at Baelin. "Over to you tank"  
Baelin strode forward confidently, raising his sword and yelling his now practised opening of "Attack Me Now". The great head slewed around as Baelin squeezed between the dragon and the cave wall and a blast of fire singed against his shield. The dragon took a few minutes to waddle and turn into position but it eventually had Baelin pinned against the far wall and was breathing fire balls at him while it swiped ineffectually with one of its front paws. The egg balanced precariously on the other paw. Baelin was parrying the fireballs easily with his sword.  
"Hurry up" Ben said to Britt and Greg "or didn't I mention that this is on a timer? The egg cracks at ten minutes and she goes berserk"  
"And who said your raid leader communication skills hadn't improved? "muttered Britt .She had managed to wedge herself in a niche to the side and was stabbing furiously at the scales although very few of her thrusts appeared to be going home. Ben was standing a metre or so away from Baelin. Clearly he trusted the big man to keep the monster's attention. His eyes were fixed on the egg.  
Greg saw that the dragon had raised itself on its hind legs leaving a space between the ground and -he hesitated at describing it even to himself -where the tail met the body. He dove for the spot like a rugby playing desperately scoring a try and narrowly missed being eviscerated by the sweeping scythe of the tail. He was lying prone on the floor of the cave underneath the great beast .His staff was in his hand .He pulled it close to him and whispered.  
"I'm so sorry about this .You know what I'm asking?"  
The gem flickered slowly .off on off on in a staccato series.  
Greg was confused .it didn't seem to be yes or no and he wondered if his communication with the jewel had failed. Then he realised it was spelling something out in mores code.  
"EWWWWWWW"  
Well, it had got the message. Greg turned over with a grunt, grasped the staff in both hands and, bracing himself against the floor, thrust upwards.  
At the same time he yelled "arcane rocket!" He closed his eyes and held his breath  
There was a muffled explosion from inside the dragon, a geyser excrement erupted al over Greg and then there was dragon everywhere. In very small pieces, raining down on them all  
Greg looked up to see the golden egg sailing through the air, followed by Ben's flying body.  
That has to be the save of the year if he makes it, he thought.  
Ben stood up and raised the egg aloft.  
"It's still a loss if the egg breaks "he explained to the others "The boss respawns"  
"More useful information" said Britt drily  
The egg was shaking slightly and a faint crack appeared.  
"O No " said Greg "was it a wipe after all that?" He didn’t fancy his chances of getting the staff to do the same trick again. He was sure it was glaring at him from under its matted coat of brown sludge  
"No" said Ben and he smiled.  
"Here" he said and gave the egg to Britt.  
Lines appeared across the egg, zigzagging and coalescing at the top. A tiny pair of horns poked through and the egg shattered, revealing a huge eyed and very pink baby dragon.  
"OOOOH"said Britt and the now familiar flash of green passed between her and the hatchling. She stroked it blissfully and turned to the others, tears rolling down her face. The dragon had a tiny birthmark - a golden crown -on its rump, signifying its epic status.  
"I'm going to miss my pets so much "she said.  
And me, Greg wanted to say. Will you miss me too?  
Instead he trudged after them, covered in brown goo. They all congratulated him on his quick thinking of course but he noticed that none of them came very near.  
They had come to the final corridor. It was suspiciously free of traps and explosives. The rough-hewn rocks of the previous chambers gave way to delicately shaped arches .The floor underfoot was made of tightly fitting flagstones.  
There was a doorway made of oak and bound with black iron. On each side of the doorway were three basins filled with perfumed water and behind each basin hung a white robe.  
"Usually you just click the basin and the robes 'said Ben "but I think we actually have to wash and dress now"  
Greg placed his staff in the weapon rack thankfully and stripped down .As he washed he found he didn’t need to avert his eyes from the others. He was too busy getting clean. He changed into the robe, which was tied with a golden cord that had a pouch hanging from it, and turned to retrieve his staff. It was stuck firmly in the weapon rack. Fighting the rising panic he said "Umm..Guys?"  
They were standing in a group watching him. Their weapons were behind them in the racks.  
"Yeh, should have told you about that" said Ben easily. "We have to fight the final boss with Baladoon's weapons. They're in the racks around the dining room.  
"Dining room?" Greg was confused.  
Ben gestured. "In there. He's eating a meal and we disturb him. In the dungeons I've done that's the signal for the boss to come out and fight us and Baladoon usually doesn’t do anything except keep eating and make comments about what a mess we're making .At the end he either orders his servants to clear away the bodies or he invites you to sit down and everyone gets a loot box. But like Rory said, He's probably the boss in this one"  
"So what will he do?"  
"No idea. Let's find out, shall we?"  
Greg tugged at his staff again but it was stuck fast to the rack.  
"Goodbye" he whispered to the gem, "thanks for all your help," The stone rattled urgently in its latticework .He closed his hand over the filigree and to his horror the cage snapped and the gem fell t the ground. Greg picked up the gem and stuffed it in the pouch. It gave him some comfort to know it might be there cheering him on.  
"Ready check" said Ben "remember I don’t know this so if you find something out, call it. Ready."  
"Ready"  
"Ready"  
"Ready'  
The doorknocker was a half moon with a rampant lion on one side and a two headed eagle on the other. They were snarling at each other. Ben rapped three times on the door and it swung slowly open.  
They were inside a vast hall. Footmen stood in niches around the edges alternating with maidservants. . Greg counted twelve of each.  
A long dining table was placed in the middle of the room. It was heaped with gold and silver dishes bearing strange looking and familiar foodstuffs. There were jugs of wine and sherbets. There were 12 settings down the sides and one large carved and gilded chair at the head. That chair was surmounted by the fighting lion and eagle symbol, as was the golden crown of the man who sat in the chair.  
It was Baladoon of course. He was chewing on a drumstick, which he threw to the floor as they came in.  
"Hello friends ' he said mildly. "Won't you join us?'  
The sorcerer gestured to one side of the table where the four imperial players sat, restrained by golden fetters and silenced by shimmering golden gags. They were all struggling and trying to say something. Greg wished he could read lips through a gag. Or at all, for that matter.  
Ben advanced, not towards Baladoon but to the rack of weapons behind him. They were forged from gold.  
"Don’t worry "he said, "they still cut."  
He threw a sword at Britt who caught it with a practised twist of her arm. Baelin had gone to the rack and taken down a shield with the lion emblem as well as a sword.  
"Greg?"  
Greg had gone to the Imperials and was leaning over Christina, trying to hear what she was frantically mouthing through her gag. He touched the gag gingerly and was thrown against one of the footman's niches by the ensuing electric shock .As he sailed through the air he caught the word "Foo"Foo? Like the band?  
"Greg!" Ben's voice cut through his thoughts and he just managed to catch the golden staff that was being thrown at him.  
Baladoon stood up.  
"I'm disappointed "His purple robes rippled menacingly.  
He gestured and a tray of Hor D'oeuvres rose vertically in the air and started spinning towards them. Britt knocked them easily aside, avoiding the tendrils that snaked out from one of the pastries.  
A tureen of soup was next, jumping off the table and lumbering towards Ben on its stubby silver legs. It reached him and tipped over, spilling green soup on the ground. Ben jumped over it; kicking the empty tureen contemptuously .The pool of soup began to smoke and spread.  
A fish kettle rattled sinisterly .The lid slipped t one side, two snake like heads appeared and two slimy grey bodies slid out. The jellied eels soared towards Baelin, spitting green poison and making a caterwauling sound. He knocked one with his shield but misjudged his sword swipe and the second eel clamped onto his bicep. Baelin made a grunting sound and tried to shake the eel off. It stayed attached. Britt ran over and grabbed the eel, screaming as her hand contacted the slime on its surface. She swore. "Poison."  
In the centre of the table was a huge roast pig with an apple in its mouth, sitting on a platter of parsley. It spat the apple out and flew directly at Greg. He stood, horrified by its grinning face and sightless eyes and reflexely brought his staff up. The pig's head snapped upwards and hung sideways on a thread of meat and sinew, swinging grotesquely and still grinning. Greg felt ill. I wonder If I was a vegetarian in real life he thought .If not, I think I'll start. The head disappeared from view, slammed downwards by the force of Baelin's shield. "Thanks" he tried to say and found he was tethered in place, frozen and silenced by the glaring eye sockets. Baelin tried to shove the head aside but couldn’t. Instead he grabbed Greg and pulled him out of its line of sight.  
They both failed to see the green jellies that were wobbling towards them but they turned at Ben's muffled yelp. One of the jellies was engulfing him until he was trapped like a fly in amber, caught in a throwing stance with his daggers held up. Britt was attacking the jelly with her sword but it was self-healing.  
"Greg' she screamed .he aimed the staff at the jelly and muttered "arcane explosion." The jelly didn’t so much explode as half melt, leaving a dribble on the floor and Ben half uncovered. Greg was congratulating himself when Ben's body shimmered and he reappeared a t the table on the opposite side to the imperials but still bound and gagged as they were.  
"Counts as a kill, I'm afraid "said Baladoon, wiping his mouth delicately with a golden napkin. "He was in there for over the requisite minute" Baladoon extracted a crumb from his oiled beard, inspected it closely and popped it in his mouth with every appearance of enjoyment.  
A plate of mixed French cheeses was now in the air, the cheeses emitting gaseous green clouds. Britt stood too close and was instantly asleep. Greg sent a dispel in her direction but she was immediately hit again. She managed to wake for a second in between and mouthed the word "sorry " at them before she, too, shimmered and was placed at the table.  
Baladoon was sipping from a goblet now. He arched one eyebrow at Baelin.  
"You could concede you know. No need to stretch it out. Tch, tch such a mess" He smiled at Ben who was straining against his gag, his neck muscles standing out like cords as he mouthed what Greg felt sure were colourful profanities.  
"Never." Baelin shook his head and looked determinedly at the table .He strode forward and attempted to upend it and when that didn’t work he tried to pull the food off onto the ground. It didn't budge.  
Baladoon smiled again. "I'm afraid that's not the trick. Nice try, though.'  
Trick? So there was a trick to this fight? Greg thought hard. He couldn't think of any likely mechanics except endless iterations of the banquet that had just attacked them. Starters, soup, fish, meat, sweets and cheese. Six courses, crowding the already congested room with food and debris until they could no longer move without being poisoned or stunned or swallowed.  
As if in answer to his thoughts a salver of oysters in half shells, surrounded on their plate by wedges of bread and lemon, started to shudder. It had begun again.  
Greg was looking wildly around the room. He noticed again the footmen and the maidservants standing imperviously n their niches. Was that a faint purple shimmer around the first pair? Were they .. were they ..serving the dinner?  
"Baelin" he yelled "The servants. I think it's them!" and he cast a bolt at the footman who crumpled. The salver of oysters wobbled precariously and he targeted the maidservant. His arcane energy hit her mid chest and the oysters crashed to the floor.  
Greg shouted with relief and joy and pointed his staff at the next pair of servants who had begun to shimmer with purple light." Arcane energy" he yelled. The staff fizzed slightly and was silent. He was out of mana.  
Baelin was dealing with the oysters, which had turned into razor sharp missiles, attacking him from all sides.  
Greg saw all of the other servants shimmer in turn and then like clockwork soldiers they all stepped from their niches at the same time and marched slowly towards the table.  
"They're going to kill your friends, you know," said Baladoon conversationally, "and when they do, it will be all over .He shrugged theatrically. "But what can you do? After all, it's just a game. "He looked up slyly "Or is it?"  
Baelin was on the opposite side of the table to Greg.it meant that he was facing six of the automatons and Greg was facing four.  
Baelin gave a great roar of rage and ran down the line, decapitating the servants as they walked slowly forward. He avoided being touched by all but the last, which met his body in a great flash of light. The servant disintegrated and so did Baelin but he re-appeared a moment later, bound in gold next to Britt and Ben.  
Greg's heart tore in two. Somehow seeing the big man helpless disturbed him so much more than seeing Ben or Britt. He looked in despair at Baladoon, the weight in his chest burning.  
The sorcerer had been cleaning his nails with a fruit knife but now he looked up and sighed.  
"One last chance "he said and looked genuinely sad.  
Greg looked at the marching servants. There was no way that he could stop all four with a staff that just fizzled. He gripped his hands over the pouch that was slung on his waistband and felt the stone.  
"Is it worth trying?" he thought hopelessly and drew the gem from his pouch. It felt warm and reassuring as it nested in the palm of his hand .He gripped it tightly and raised it above his head.  
"Arcane Obliteration" It sounded right.  
A sheet of purple rain swept down on the servants. They buckled at the knees and the maidservants screamed in unison as they began to disintegrate. The two footmen transformed into werewolves and leaped at Greg before they too subsided in a storm of purple dust.  
Greg turned to Baladoon "And now you "he said 'and raised the stone.  
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary "said the sorcerer "or a good idea .The final scene is yet to play out after all. Bit of a cheat using the Soulstone of Skycraft instead of the supplied items, but I'll allow it for once."  
Baladoon took his crown off and walked slowly towards Greg, holding the crown before him. As he walked past the other players their bonds fell off but he kept his eyes on Greg. He knelt and placed the crown in front of the now ex- garlic farmer .The crown elongated and twisted and transformed into a golden fishing rod, an artefact of stunning beauty. It balanced delicately on its handle, swaying slightly  
Baladoon held out his hand.  
"The Soulstone" he said  
Greg held out his jewel mutely and watched a Baladoon set it into the hilt of the rod.  
The sorcerer nodded approvingly. "Now you have earned your reward and th erewardfor all who have accompanied you in this quest."His eyes flicked to Britt and Baelin and Ben but also to the Imperials. "Take it" His eyes darkened in anticipation.  
"But.."Greg tried to say "Shouldn't it be Ben?"  
Nevertheless he reached out to grasp the rod. His hands closed over the handle.  
Everything went black.


	11. ENDGAME

END GAME  
He opened his eyes  
He was not in hell.  
There was no vat and no blue goo.  
He was lying in a bed and he was wearing a perfectly ordinary tracksuit although the bulky feeling inside suggested rather disgustingly the presence of a nappy of sorts.  
Around him was some apparatus that he instantly recognised. Monitors mostly, watching his vital signs and stimulating and feeding back to his muscles and senses .An IV infusion hung from a pole and he could feel the dressing on his hand where it had been sited.  
A single, small gaming console with its semicircular screen sat on the bedside table and blinked at him. He felt on his temples for the two patched that he knew would be there and he ripped them off in distaste.  
He got up slowly and carefully, noting with pleasure that there was very little muscle wasting or loss of balance. The light hurt his eyes a little though. He dimly remembered thinking the same thing a thousand times over before. Whatever he had paid for his care in those last years it had been worth it.  
His thoughts were racing now, memories of his fragmented lives spinning inside his head. Over all of his thoughts rode one imperative.  
He walked steadily to the door and opened it.  
A nurse looked up from her chart table, opened her mouth to order him out and then fell silent. This room was much more hospitalised. There were lights and charts and monitors .The floor was polished linoleum and there was a faint tang of disinfectant.  
"Rowan?" he croaked. It was half a question and half a prayer.  
The big man sitting on the side of the bed, his body still trailing tubes and wires, looked up and a slow smile crossed his face.  
"Hey" said the big man .He stood up and opened his arms and the two brothers hugged for the first time in over eight years.  
The other door opened and the man he had known as Baladoon came in.  
"Hello Alan. Welcome home."  
Alan Morris looked at him, uncertain whether to hug him or to hit him.  
"Adam. You sonofabitch. How did you find me?"  
Adam King was smug."  
"I didn't try for the first couple of years, but when Everrighteous started making their play for the company began I knew I had to get you out before it was too late. Took me ages. Years in fact. Hiding in the dole boxes was a great idea."  
Adam twitched the curtain aside to reveal an uninspiring suburban street packed with neat grey houses all exactly alike. There were no trees, the nature strip was gravel and there were no individual signs of the inhabitants - no cars, no bicycles no toys on the streets or decals on the windows. It looked like a computer generated drawing of a suburban street. By a very boring graphic artist.  
Alan moved to the window.  
"I thought it was fitting. I'm responsible for people living like this.  
"Better than the burnt out cars and broken windows and neglected kids from twenty years ago."  
Alan shrugged "Maybe'  
"And Rowan. That must have been hard .We all thought he'd died"  
"I wouldn’t let live out the rest of his life in an institution. I would have killed him before that. And I knew that his mind was in there somewhere. They said he was brain damaged but I knew him better. When we were little." Alan's voice faltered "when my parents died he went catatonic for weeks .I knew it was like that only worse."  
He shuddered, remembering the weeks and months sitting by his brother's hospital bed, watching him writhing and muttering, clawing at his burned face with his bandaged hands as the nightmare of the accident played over and over in Rowan's mind. The whisperings and cries of anguish. "I couldn’t save them all'' and the knowledge that Rowan was seeing the trapped passengers in the burning bus as he and his colleagues desperately tried to free them. Then the slow descent into silence and stillness that he was told, but would not believe, marked the end.  
Rowan came to stand next to his brother and put his arm around him.  
"Well, not many people would think of sticking me on a bridge to fish for seven years to keep my mind alive."  
"Or to stand in front of a hut watching you do it I guess"  
They grinned at each other and Alan asked Adam again  
"So how did you find me?"  
"IN game or out of game? Out of game was easier in a way .I traced where a round the clock nurse and physio and meals were going. A surprising number of places actually. Then I just kept narrowing it down. I found your body about a year ago, couldn't get through all your hidden security to try to speak to you -so then I started searching the game. I got the Devs t put new dungeons and special rewards in and I kept popping in and out as the Baladoon character but I couldn’t flush you out. Nice touch making half the male NPCs in your likenesses by the way. I found you both about a month ago just about when we heard about the likely legal challenge. It took me nearly that long to find a top Completionist."  
"A what?" Rowan was puzzled. He looked so much like Baelin, the early Baelin, that Alan's stomach hurt all over again with love and compassion. The ache in his stomach became a lead weight as he realised what Adam had said and what it meant and he answered dully  
"A Completionist. They're specialised players who go into the game and "lead" lost players out. You know the ones who have become lost in the game. Their families hire these guys to finish the game with them and that's usually a pre-arranged trigger for them to fully snap out of their conditioning. They were rare seven years ago when I arranged my trigger for getting out of the game-it was receiving an epic end game item "  
So Britt was a Completionist. That would explain a lot. Her background in therapy, her lack of knowledge of most of the game, her compassion, even her ability to attract him and to hold his attention. Well, she'd done a good job. He would give her that.  
The nurse was making signs at Adam.  
"Well, I'd better get going. I guess you two need your rest and I think someone's arranged some formal medical tests and stuff for tomorrow? I asked your doctor to do that. He says you need some privacy and some counselling and that it will be a week or two before he can sign you off."  
"As compos mentis? "asked Alan cynically "So we can save the company?"  
"Don’t be like that,"Adam said primly. "It was all about you..Yes, yes "hastily "But about the company too. After all, that is why you hired me. Take your time - but remember the deadline for the leases is in two weeks."He waved and was gone.  
The nurse advanced purposefully on Rowan. Alan felt a definite desire to get out of his nappy and backed out of the room, holding his pants up with one hand.  
The Amram building was one of the tallest buildings in Auckland. It had been built with a great deal of unnecessary money being spent on its twisting glass fronted design and rather more very necessary money spent on making it safe from earthquakes, bombs and major radiation leaks. When the brothers arrived a week later, Adam was waiting for them in the top floor presidential suite. The glass-fronted cubicle belonging to the secretary was bigger than most open plan offices and the president's desk in some unspecified rare wood sat in the centre of an even more palatial room.  
"Just some papers for you to look over, boss "he said easily. "I hope your business sense is as good as ever. But before you do that "he jerked his head towards the door, "there's someone in my office there who wants to say goodbye."  
"O Great thought Alan, it's Britt. So I guess I get to thank her for her service and say goodbye at least. His heart couldn’t help giving a little flutter as he thought that. He made his way out to the glass fronted room and into the door marked "VP"  
There was someone leaning against the desk who looked up with a friendly smile as Alan entered the room.  
"BEN?"  
Ben's face looked softer, kinder and less sharp, but it was unmistakeably him. His smile was the smile of a man at ease with himself and the world. His eyes crinkled in genuine pleasure at seeing Alan  
"Hi Greg. Or Alan I should say. Hope everything has worked out for you and Baelin. Or Rowan I should say. I'm still Ben .I always use my own name. Never had much imagination" He chuckled.  
Alan's heart soared and then he hesitated  
"So - you are the completionist? And Britt was..?"  
Ben shrugged. "Britt was a very nice young lady who had some issues. I hope we helped her to work them out. I don't know who she was but if you ever see her tell her I said hello."  
Alan's head was spinning and he found it difficult to get his words out.  
"Don't worry .. I mean, I will. And I hope you got paid well."

"Oh yes, a nice little bonus. I can't complain. And of course my fame will spread - if you allow it to. Lots of lost souls in there and in other games who need me."  
He smiled again "It's not just the money you know. I genuinely like helping. And I really was stuck in a dead end job in retail and losing myself in the game Then I got caught hacking and they offered to train me for this. So much more fun."  
He stood up. "If you ever need me again, just call." He stuck out his hand and Alan shook it vigorously.  
"Goodbye doctor Morris"  
"Goodbye Ben. And call me Alan .No…call me Greg." He thought, I really am Greg.  
Greg walked back to his office on air. Adam was waiting, looking at him owlishly through big glasses.  
"How did it go?"  
"Fine "Greg said almost curtly. "Now what I want is this.."  
Two weeks later, he met his lawyers to successfully and unequivocally take control of all aspects of the technology he had developed.  
Three weeks later he was organising a foundation in his brother's name, one that would help people use the game more safely for escapism as well as for therapy. It included a team of Completionists led by Ben.  
Three weeks later he got the call. It saw him speeding down to a local hospital where signs directed him to the pain unit.  
"Do you have a Brittany Jones working here?" he asked the receptionist. The receptionist frowned.  
""Yes, she's one of our psychologists. Do you have an appointment? "She checked her computer "Well I don’t think you do, she's due to run a group this afternoon" The receptionist looked at him suspiciously and he cursed himself.  
"Can I see her for just a second?" he pleaded. "I'm an old friend and I'm in town and I wanted to surprise her"  
She looked him over again and then, apparently deciding that he looked harmless, nodded. "That's the Group Room there. She's just getting ready"  
Britt was placing photocopied articles on each of the chairs set out in a semicircle. She looked even better in jeans and a shirt than she had in a chainmail bikini. She was so real. Greg stood there drinking in the sight of her and desperately thinking of something to say.  
It turned out he didn’t need to .As Britt turned around she caught sight of him. Her face lit up with heartbreaking delight.

Greg! Oh Greg, it is you. I've been putting ads in the newspaper asking for Greg the Garlic Farmer and looking everywhere I could but you never gave me any clues. About who you were, what you did, where you lived..."

"In the newspaper "he laughed with the absurdity of it. "People still do that?"  
She punched him lightly. "I do".  
"I see you stayed assertive ".  
"You bet I did. And what did you get out of it?

"Ill tells you all about it "he promised. "It may take some time."  
Britt smiled at him.  
"Well, we need some of that anyway, don't we?"  
They kissed.

THE END

 

 

 

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End file.
